


Guild and Family

by LegendsBlade



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Faerûn - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendsBlade/pseuds/LegendsBlade
Summary: A young knight, out of place in a salt of the earth tavern in Neverwinter, recruits a small group of lone wold type adventurers that had made a name for themselves already for a job two days south of the city. Follow a party of adventurers on their journey of going from complete strangers brought together for promise of coin and adventure, to a family forged of bonds instead of blood. An ensemble cast of small time heroes take on a job well over their head, and find motivation to stay together.Guild and Family is a fan novel in the Forgotten Realms setting of Faerun and my attempt at a series writing project. This isn't meant to be a traditional fan fiction as much as it is a real, earnest attempt to write an amateur novel in a pre existing universe and canon. The works here are also copied tired from the document it was written in (While I am planning to upload one chapter a month, the novel itself is nearly complete) so if there are structure issues please let me know.





	1. Meet Me in Neverwinter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Every bard knows that the most important line in their song is the very first one. Perhaps that is why so many epics and songs begin the same, as undoubtedly people are drawn towards the simple beginning of the knight in a tavern, the gathering of adventurers around one single dimly lit table as dancing and mirth and drink surrounds them at all sides. My song is no different, except that for every single word of it is true. So we begin, set to the backdrop of a tavern, unlikely compatriots gathered together by a knight donned in red.” - Hazel Barkley's Memoirs

Seated at the head of the table at a tavern deep in to the city of Neverwinter was the fair haired knight donned in attire straight from every storybook ever written; A long red cape matched to regal tabard laid over linked chainmail all set to royal posture. That alone would have been enough to attract those side long glances, murmurs and stares from the patrons, a wealthy man in such a salt of the earth tavern, but the company he kept was even more intriguing. 

Across from him the Half Orc Hagun, covered in tattered leathers and Sorcerer tattoos, pulled his poleaxe in more so it rested against his shoulder. “To the point” he would state as his free arm dropped a tankard, which was immediately snatched up by the Dwarven Monk Brynolfr whom quickly downed the drink, perhaps contradicted with his monastery robes and holy symbol of Torm. 

Four loud gulps down and he threw the tankard across the table to the deep red Tiefling woman, Servetere, whom would have ignored it had the handle not caught awkwardly around her horns and spun a few times. She grabbed the tankard and slammed it down, which earned a drawn out sight from the Dragonborn Ranger, Rhogar, as he took a moment from stringing his bow to push the cup of ale towards the table center.

The tankards journey finally ended as the hooved feet of the satyr, Hazel, slammed down upon the table and sent it rolling away as he pushed his chair on to his back legs so that he could recline back. His violin rose to his chin, gliding the bow back and forth across it idly, finally tearing himself away from winking at every woman who passed to return his attention forward. “Indeed, not that I mind being invited to the table of a handsome lord, but perhaps it's time for you to tell us why we're here my dear Arthur”

“Straight to the point then, I can respect that” came the calm, polite voice of the knight as he folded his hands on the table and let his expression break in to a warm smile. “I would like to form an adventuring party with you” he stated, so bluntly that Hagun practically coughed up his drank and Hazel pulled his bow off kilter causing an odd sound to come from the instrument. “No disrespect” Rhogar started “But most adventuring parties start a bit more...naturally then just rounding up people and asking. We don't even know you, nor why you asked for us.”

At that the knight could only shrug “Because each of you is an adventurer of some local repute and yet none of you have traveled with accompaniment for long. You see, 'tis my dream to one day found a guild of my own and such a guild must begin at the ground, with a single party. Fear not, I have no intention of such a deep obligation from you, but with your steel at my side mayhap a proper adventure can begin here and today to continue henceforth. I need no promise from you, other than that you would work with me on this first job I have obtained. Then, if my proposal still seems so overly fanciful you are free to leave.”

A prolonged silence fell over the group. Perhaps a few murmurs escaped, but none of them so much as spoke up. Hagun shifted in his seat in such a way that made it seem like he nearly thought to leave there an then, and it was a small blessing that he didn't. Rhogar and Servetere exchanged a few glances, but if anything they seemed as if they may just be willing to listen.

Finally Hazel dropped his feet so that chair of his just fell forward and it's legs hit the ground with a resounding stamp that only just matched his laughter. “Well, why not?” followed shortly by Brynolfr adding “Makes perfect sense to me” before downing another drinks. Though the round of agreement did not so fully carry through as Hagun spoke up; “I'm not certain about joining any parties, teams, or guilds but if you're just asking us to follow you on a job, a job we will all be paid for, then perhaps you should start with the description of said work.”

“I thought you'd never ask” Arthur answered the challenge quickly with a tone that could easily be described as excited as he shoved away the various occupants of the table, tankards and foodstuffs and even a dagger or two, to unroll the local map across it. “We'll travel south down the trade road before heading eastward, there's a small town there named Phandalin that has been struggling to reopen their mine. They've used adventurers a few times in the past to deal with the problems, but each time it seems as if one issue or another returns.”

A series of exchanged glances as the group considered it before the uncomfortable emptiness of the moment was ended by Servetere dropping her deadly knife right in to the map, piercing it through the mid “Well if we're getting paid, then I’m in.” she would state, only to be quickly cut off by the tone of Hagun's voice. “I am not so convinced, especially not without details. This is sudden, and we barely know the job at all.” drawing a sort of weak rise and fall to the knight's shoulders. “Nor, knight, do I know anything about you.” his words nearly brought doubt to the table once more, but Servetere cut in “Well, why don't we start with your first issue. Let the good knight...elaborate on the job.”

Arthur would nod at that and begin; “I'm not exactly sure myself, I only just accepted the job. But it comes from a good friend of mine in the Lord's Alliance.” he would add, though one could hardly call it an explanation. “Something or someone is keeping the villagers out of the mine, anyone who goes in comes out injured or not at all and nobody discusses what they saw. There's been a lot of mentions of Goblins in the area, and one of the villagers did let slip that it was an orc that wounded him” Arthur's gaze fell on Hagun for a moment, searching for any sign of offense. As there was none, he would continue “So that's what I would expect to see.”

Another long pause before Hazel broke the silence once more, something he seemed keen to do; “Certainly sounds like it'd make a good song” and that observation seemed enough to push the rest of the way for the group to agree. “Aye, and worth a few more drinks! As Torm says, a deal is only honorable when made under mead!” Arthur was quite sure Torm never said such a thing, but went to stand and order another drink; only to feel a hand clasp heavy upon his shoulder from behind

Arthur recognized the men as one of the ones that had been seated across from them at the bar, and immediately the room exploded in to murmurs and most of the commons sounds of a tavern fell apart entirely. Most of the tavern had been giving the table a wide birth, after all it had a noble man at it's head and the general populous had enough reverence, if not just good sense, to avoid getting in the way of the business of a high born man. This fellow however, seemed to look at it a different way. “Whoa there, Good Sir” the use of the knightly address came through a heavily sarcastic tone.

“Such a wealthy man blessing us with his presence, us common small folk” there was no doubt from his tone that he had little respect for nobility. “And being so gracious as the bear the table with an orc and a red skin! Truly, such a kind and patient man” Arthur winced at the implication of his new comrades race, but let the man continue “You surely wouldn't mind buying everyone here a few drinks.”

Arthur gave a reserved sigh, but as his hand fell to the coin pouch on his belt it seemed like he would acquiesce, if for no reason than to avoid a fight. This was clearly the man's hope, that he wouldn't risk making a public or political mess by cutting down a commoner in a tavern. Before the knight could make that choice however, the man was thrown from his position gripping the red clothed shoulder by a hard right hook across his face.

Blood spilled from his nose as he stumbled back, and he reached for a nearby bottle as if he had planned to swing...only to see the large figure of Hagun standing over him. The entire room hushed, and the large man turned to Arthur “I can't believe you were going to give that man money” his tone sounded almost disappointed, but oddly he followed it with “I'm in, on your little expedition. Let us discuss it elsewhere though” he would state, pausing a bit to motion to the man spitting to the side and muttering about filthy green skins. “I have spoiled our discussion here”

From the ale heavy smell of the tavern to the fresh air, or something close to it, of Neverwinter's streets the ground made their way out through the city. Arthur already seemed to have chosen a direction for the party to make their way, as if he had a destination in mind. The way the knight carried himself on the move was something else, his posture upright and perfect with his shoulders high and his back straight as a board. That long red cape flowed behind the heel of each clearly practiced and perfected step, just narrowly avoided brushing the ground and attracting dirt. It caused the common folk to instinctively step to the side or move, but never did he attempt to intimidate his way through the crowds. At most he likely pressed on a commoner's shoulder and, once they realized the regal attire, they stepped aside immediately every time.

“Let us meet near the cities exit on the 'morrow. Until then, I've taken the liberty of purchasing rooms for you at the nearby Inn.” Arthur offered. “You already paid for our rooms? What made you so certain we'd accept?” came the inquisitive response from Servetere, which was promptly ignored. “Once we're just past the first gates I think you'll see I’m quite serious about this Guild venture. You'll get to meet face to face my first guild holding” Arthur continued on in some form of idle conversation, likely an effort to distract from the way even the busy and full streets of Neverwinter held unwelcome or curious stares in their direction; no doubt many of them befalling the Half Orc of the group.

It was hardly a short walk, Neverwinter was one of the largest cities on the sword coast and famous for all of the adventures that had begun within it. Their path took them following a portion of the long river that cut the city in two, and would like as much have been much longer if not for the fact that there was an inn to nearly every stree.

they finally stepped out infront of the inn. “I shall see each of you just after the sun raises then?” he'd ask, as if to get them to redouble on their agreement of the offer and although most of them were quick to nod it was Hazel who shot back; “Oh, and my dear stalwart leader do you not plan to share a room with a few of us? We could all get to know each other all the better. Perhaps you and Miss Servetere...” to which Arthur quickly shook his head “I appreciate the thought, but I have preparations to make. Now go, rest, don't blame me if you leave Neverwinter and find your first night on the road wishing you'd not gotten every moment in a bed you could have.”

Author took a half step away at that, turning from the group only to be cut short by Serveter's voice; “Sir Arthur, I do have a question” pausing for only a moment to make sure she had his attention once more. “Your weapons” she would start, motioning to his sword belt with the two swords hung one above the other. A long, thin sheath bearing his rapier and a wider one for his longsword. 

She had noticed when they first met that his blades were tied shut, and that curiosity had stayed with her for the majority of the day. “Peace ties” Arthur answered “While Neverwinter has no such laws of them, I think it makes people feel safe. And if possible, I’d like to end every fight by not fighting at all. Now go, we can discuss this more at first light. ”Only then, did she also notice the curious box lantern that hung to his belt opposite of the blades.

The group entered the inn to discover that the knight had purchased two rooms, one for two and one for three beds. This was the first decision for the group truly, figuring out who would be bunking with who. Already, Hazel was clearly trying to grab people for the bigger room with promises of parties, alcohol, and getting no sleep at all. “I'll pass” Hagun's voice broke the sort of excited tone of the situation, soon followed by Rhogar's “I will as well, if that's okay. I'm not one to...party persay” while one tone was much more polite than the other they did seem to certainly share the same view point and so the situation resolved itself. The ranger and Sorcerer, who wished not to join in the festivities of a new party, would be shuffled off to the room of two.

Night falls on Neverwinter and the small two bed room is only left illuminated by a few bedside candles and the one oil lantern hanging from the wall opposite of the beds. Rhogar had fallen in to what seemed to be a usual routine, seated against the window seal and staring out it as he foot pinned down the wooden shaft of his bow so that his arm could pull and flex and the incredibly tight string. The moon light reflected off of his blue scaled dragonborn hide, somewhat more exposed since his armor had been removed along with his shirt.

“So, why do you think us?” Hagun spoke out of the blue, breaking the silence of the two men. Rhogar hadn't quite paid it much mind before, but while Hagun was short spoken like many half orcs his speech itself was exemplary. His tone wasn't harsh and his pronunciation was near perfect. It didn't seem an appropriate thing to say, however, so instead he'd simply respond; “What do you mean?”

“The knight” Hagun clarified “I understand the idea of an eccentric noble deciding he wants to go on some adventures like his favorite stage play. That's hardly uncommon. But usually he would choose the strongest men from his own house, not random strange adventurers” he would clarify his thoughts, still clearly a little uncomfortable with all this. “Well” Rhogar began to answer “Why did you accept?” a question for a question seemed to be the direction of his conversation.

There was a prolonged silence here, or what would be a silence if not for the loud music nearby. Hazel was no doubt playing some music, and the sound of clinking glasses and merriment echoed through the walls. No doubt the rest of the party was also getting to know one another, if there was any talking that could be had beneath such over whelming music.

Hagun finally broke the pseudo quiet by giving his delayed answer “I suppose I am intrigued, and I could use the money. I've worked with parties before, though usually only because we just happened to take the job. Having the team form first, then be told the job...” he trailed off a bit, clearly in through. “To answer your question” Rhogar broke the silence “I imagine he chose me because I’m an accomplished hunter. From the Lurkwood to Troll woods, I’ve done a lot of work taking down unnatural beasties that are damaging the natural order.”

“Makes sense” Hagun answered, motioning to the bow. “Your bow, the the string would be too tight for any human to pull.” he stated the obvious, and indeed it was true. With Rhogar's draconic strength it was very nearly like firing ballasts. “As for why he chose you, it's a little obvious isn't it?” a statement that made Hagun's eyes narrow “Don't make that face, your reputation is hardly a secret.”

Meanwhile in the room just across, music from the violin flooded every wall and corner as a very drunken monk of Torm did what he likely considered dancing, bumping in to every table he could find along the way as if that was the goal the entire time. The Tiefling woman, Servetere, watches from her positioned reclined back on the bed. Not that she wasn't enjoying the festivities, but rather that she enjoyed them her own way. People watching, keeping to herself, drinking in a much more reserved manner as she watched drunken companions.

Hazel seemed like the kind of man who never stopped, and it made sense for Satyr's. A race known for traveling from town to town based on where the festivals and holidays are, and where there were none nearby they would invent holidays to fool people in to celebrating. That seemed echo'd here with how intensely he drug that bow along the violin and how his hoofed foot tapped against the floor, the decorations on his horns bouncing in tune with the music. Every song was a story, and every story was harder to believe than the last. The thing that frustrated the Tiefling woman, as much as it entertained her, was knowing for sure some were true and some were falsehoods yet being unable to decipher which were which.

Brynolfr was a unique sort. She had met both dwarves drunkards and pious monks before, but never someone who was so thuroughly both. As the dwarf knocked in to a side table near one of the beds, the candle upon it spilled from the table. Yet just before it touched the floor, even in his drunken space, the monk kicked it back up off of his heel and it landed upright in the candle holster. Somehow, despite all logic, the flame upon it still lit. “This ale is thin!” he would proclaim “Torm says, never trust an establishment with thin ale for corruption is near!” something the other two occupants of the room very much doubted the God ever said.

The trio got to know each other over the night more with dancing and drinking than they did talking, indeed not a proper a full conversation was held the entire night. Maybe it was an irony that the two strong silent types got to know each other along the way with their words, while those in the room of talkers and shakers got to know one another from their actions.

Each spent the night amusing themselves amongst each other. Hazel had noticed the Tiefling's woman suspicions for his stories so began to exaggerate more and more with each song, but the trick was he only did so on the stories that were true to make them sound untrue while playing down the extravagance in the stories that were all lies. Servetere herself made a game of constantly disappearing from Brynolfr's sight in his drunken stupor, convincing the dwarf that her shadow stepping was some kind of magic and not that his drunken state simply lacked the perception to keep up with her in his blind spot. Although, to her great surprise, he would manage to find her two or three times over the hours.

Brynolfr amused himself exactly how one would expect, with lots of drinking and merriment with a bit of misquoting scripture. Over the night he did perhaps did the most talking, and yet none of it lead to proper conversation. He'd spout something about his God and ale, an off combination but as the night drew on and his two companions also fell in to the stupor of alcohol his nonsensical ramblings seemed a lot more sensible and a lot less rambly.

By the end of it all, the party was asleep, and only one of them properly on their bed. Hazel slept against the window seal and, later in the night, on the floor next to it once he fell. Brynolfr was half on his bed, half on the floor, an impressive feat given his diminutive height. Only the Tiefling actually slept full and proper in her bed.

Early on the breach of the next day the party made their way out through the streets once again, emptier now than before due to the early hour, as they approached the magnificent main gates of Neverwinter, left open for the passage of travelers but flanked on either side by guards. Just beyond those main gates stood Arthur, their now employer, who's hands quickly outstretched as the wagon behind him was revealed. “Behold, dear friends, our very first guild holding!”

“A wagon?” Hagun inquired with a short, almost confused tone. “A wagon!” Arthur reaffirmed.

It didn't take long for everyone to load up their equipment in to the back of the wagon. Many brought their own chests, some just a backpack, Hazel instead placing a very large sitar right in the middle of the wagon. A curious standing instrument that took up a tad more than it's fair share of room, earning a couple of confused glances from the rest of the company that had focused on food and equipment. To which the Satyr simply offered a shrug; “You can't expect a good bard to bring only one instrument?”

“It's not that” Servetere spoke up. “I just suppose I had expected you to play-” “Pan pipes?” Hazel interrupted. “You try growing up hearing them every single day and see how strongly you want to hear them after leaving home! Never has such a mediocre instrument been so over used. Oh but my dear mother would agree with you no doubt, wanting me to play a wholesome instrument like the pipes! I'm not very wholesome though, and besides I quite like the...” he almost went in to a tirade before she lifted her hand to signal him to stop. “I get the idea” Servetere said.

With the horses reigned to the wagon it'd begin it's journey down the trade road fresh out of Neverwinter. The new wooden wheels testing themselves against the road, bouncing slightly as they left cobblestone and fell to the softer dirt roads. Most of the group walked or took turns at the reigns, that “most” excluding Hazel whom reclined back in the wagon. 

The positions weren't random either, even as they swapped either Rhogar or Hagun always secured the back side of the wagon while Brynolfr or Servetere secured the front. Hazel was supposed to keep an eye out from the advantage of the moving cart, but he clearly was more interested in playing whatever song he best felt matched any particular stretch of road. While some might have side eyed that, the constant cascade of music kept the traveling easy.

Traveling on the high road towards the sword mountains wasn't just easy, it was nice. With the sea so close at hand, the trip felt more leisurely than business to many on their first trip and, for a man like Arthur, still on his hundreth. Only the road to Waterdeep kept you closer to water than this, and perhaps one day he thought he'd take that road with this particular troupe.

A day and a half passed and the road turned towards Phandalin off of the trade route, and narrows in to a single road flanked by thick heavy briar bushes on either side that had no doubt had a few tastes of adventurer blood from little nicks and pricks on the road. While they had road through the night, taking the wagon and marching in shifts kept anyone from being exceptionally tired and well packed rations kept anyone from being hungry. Still, murmurs of wanting to make it to the town soon or at least make camp weren't uncommon by this point of the travel.

That was until a whistle came from the front of the wagon and attentions snapped forward to Arthur who's hand hand lifted and closed, as if to signal some kind of focus. The horses pulling the wagon ceased and a few murmurs were exchanged before he motioned forward. “An arrow?” Rhogar stated in observation. “Aye, and tipped with crow feathers too” added astutely by Byrn “And so, it must be crow people. Come to ambush our great mission” stated a moment later perhaps...less astutely.  
While the group may have rolled their eyes at that specific the idea, everyone did seem keenly aware of the chance of highway men. After all, what were the odds of a single arrow landed center of the path if not for something ominous. “More likely Goblins” Hagun would finally interject “They scout these roads for ambushes. They should be firing on us shortly.”

His words were almost prophetic as a moment later arrows rained from above. Hooves slide against the wooden bottom of the wagon as Hazel skidded and slid around for a moment before pulling himself over it's edge and falling behind it for safety, landing ungraciously next to Hagun whom had already taken to the safety of this side of the wagon.

The rest of the party quickly left to fend for themselves, or they would have if not for the steely hands of Brynolfr who stepped infront of Rhogar and Hazel to skillfully catch several of the incoming arrows, ending with easily half a dozen between his two hands and only a few drops of blood to show for it. What few of those arrows made it through met nothing but Arthur's shield and the thick scales of Rhogar's arms.

A moment later they were surrounded, a dozen of the little goblins each armed with scimitars having discarded their bows long ago. There was a long halt in volume, not a word said as both sides evaluated their situation. On one hand, Goblins were not exactly the most devastating foe an adventurer could find themselves against, but six against twelve was not an idyllic number on the best of days. From the other perspective though, these Goblins were hoping to catch traders and civilians not armed foes. Still at least there were only six...five of them? Where had the Tiefling woman gone?

Any chance of talking out of this ended suddenly, as if just on the queue of that thought she reappeared from the nearby briars that the goblins had hidden themselves in not long ago. Swift and immediate she was soon behind the goblin she figured was the troupe's leader to pull the weapon across the short creature's throat before turning the weapon about in her hand to stab in to goblin that had been next to him where his neck met his shoulder.

“Violence it is then” Brynolfr reaffirmed everyone's thoughts right there and then. Music suddenly burst in to the air as Hazel began playing a more traditional harp soon met by a rallying cry as Hagun came about from behind the wagun and took to the foes from behind simultaneous to Brynolfr moving to join Servetere in battling at the front. With a kick and a step Rhogar pushed himself on top of the wagon and drew his long bow; the massive weapon so large and with such a taught string that truly only a man of draconian strength could wield it well.

The goblin troupe quickly skittered away from the Tiefling that had killed too of them, hoping to collapse on to the unarmed dwarven man for an easy, quick kill to rebalance the odds. Perhaps more sound a strategy than goblins usually came up, but in this case it was hardly effective. Their wild, hurried cuts were parried away with bare forearm, and the wild eyed dwarf numbly turned and dodged the flurry just long enough for them to enwrap around him. 

he finally began retaliating with blows, knocking the goblin's wrists and punching them bare handed in the chest, the exchange was intense but hardly impressive. A crack of bone now and then, some bloodied noses, but the oddest thing was the way lightning slowly seemed to gather around the trails of his fist with each strike. Sparking and turning through the air accompanied by the sound of a blade against the grindstone until one last booming punch pulled that electricity out of the air and exploded through all three goblins. A fair trade, as even with his skillful dodges and parries he found himself covered in shallow cuts up and down his forearm and a few about his torso.

The back line was fairing nearly as well. Rhogar popped one of the goblins on it's initial advance with an arrow through the chest with such force that it knocked the goblin from it's feet. That nearly perfectly coincided with a hard note from the music in the air as Hagun rushed in. The half orc was an absolute beast, his halberd glowing with a sickly green energy as he brought it down from one enemy to another. Bringing his weapon heavy in to a goblins shoulder and in to his chest, killing it instantly, before pulling it back to bash the wooden bottom in to the next goblin's chest to send it staggering away. Indeed he worked well with Rhogar, who instantly knew to pincushion the goblin with an arrow as it was off balance from being knocked away. 

“Shouldn't you be fighting too?” Hazel would inquire to Arthur, who simply let his shoulders rise and fall. “Do I need to? We've yet to find harm, and 'tis a good chance to see my new party in action” pause “Shouldn't you be aiding them?” he would inquire back. “Oh but I am” Hazel would not “There's some real power in music, and what adventurer worth his salt would fight without rhythm at his back?”

Not that there was much more combat to aid in. With the front line of the goblins entirely collapsed and the ruthless combination of the Dragonborn Archer and his newfound Half Orc friend on the back, there were hardly three of the little creatures left and they seemed on the back foot. Hagun kicked one of the Goblins off to the side as it just barely managed to bring it's scimitar in to his hip, and yet it did not cut, a shimmering light over where a would should have been as the goblin was pushed back to receive an arrow through it's upper leg from Rhogar, before lifting that weirdly glowing weapon above his head to the next to strike down the next Goblin as it made an odd whistling sound.

Hagun only had a moment to process the words “Look out!” coming from Rhogar before he found his downwrought swing interrupted by a hard impact to his chest. His heavy body smashed in to the ground and a sound like smashing glass as the magical armor that had protected his body moment before disappointed. An owlbear roared above him, preparing to bring it's weight down on the half orc. Quick to cover his comrade, Rhogar pulled his bow up and the string back much further than before before loosing an arrow. The impact struck the Owlbear with enough force to lift it off of the ground, the impact like that of a ballista.

“Off the wagon!” Rhogar heard Arthur shout, and didn't even need to process it to understand the order. The owlbear was already charging; not only had Rhogar just wounded the creature but he was the most physically imposing and to the owlbear's animal brain that made him a priority. If it struck while Rhogar stood on the wagon, no doubt it would destroy it. So with a kick and a short jump Rhogar lept from the wagon, landed on the ground hard on his shoulder and falling in to a roll. He tried to bring his bow up as he exited the roll in a kneel, but already the owlbear was upon him and he felt his shoulder out of sorts.

He leaned back, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the grievously wounded animal. It was a bad situation, but Rhogar wasn't alone he realized as the upper half of Hagun's pokearm pushed through it's chest. The half orc grabbed the monster by the back of the head, his fingers digging in to it's skull as the owlbear grew visibly sickly. Color faded from it and it's body began to go limp, before suddenly exploding in to sickly green flames. 'Was this truly a Sorcerer's magic?' Rhogar thought.

“Enough!” cried one of the only two remaining Goblins in a shrill voice, throwing down his weapon. “We know when we be beaten. Shudda known betta than to fight 'venturers.” Hagun's weapon hung high in the air, ready for a prolonged time to come down on the remaining foes, before finally turning back to the wagon as if to check for orders. Arthur's hand would raise in a way to represent “Stop” and sure enough the orcish man would lower his weapon.  
“I am prepared to discuss the terms of your surrender” Hagun would state in no uncertain terms. The goblin's lips would part as if he was going to say something in response, only to be cut off “You will leave all of your weapons and valuables, and you will tell me where your encampment is.” a demand that drew a curious look from his companions, but yet nobody thought to interrupt.

Sure enough the goblin dropped his blade and his arrows, followed shortly with a few pouches of gems and gold. “And?” Hagun would state, impatiently. “I-...I don't want-” “You want to live don't you?” “...Yes” the exchange of intimidation and cowardice was a bit much for a few of the party, but curiosity kept anyone from interfering.

“Through the prickly ouch bushes, if you push through the pain, a little path past the running water. We set camp in a nearby cave, look small but very very big cave on inside after crawling under.” he explain, animatedly moving his hands a bit in a way that he seemed to think helped with the instruction, but really did nothing to better paint a picture. “You may go” Hagun would state shortly after.

Sure enough, the goblins would run off through the briars and disappear. “What was that about?” Arthur finally inquired. “The mission” Hagun answered shortly, waiting several beats before elaborating. “We know little of Phandalin's problems you have us riding in to. If we get there, and discover it to be a Goblin issue, then we now know where they stay and where they sleep.”

At that, Arthur would gently tap his palm with his opposite fist as if to signal some sort of “Ah ha” before nodding. “Makes sense, thinking ahead. I imagine that's why you're as successful as you are in Neverwinter” he would state, before turning back to the road. “I thought he was just getting off to bullying to poor little guys” Hazel would add, nonchalantly, as he climbed back in to the wagon. Earning a moment of tension from the others near Hagun that he either seemed to ignore or not notice at all.

As the mood calmed, Hazel's music changed to a calmer tempo and the tune seemed to pluck through the air in an unusual way. The little knicks on Brynolfr's forearms closed themselves and Rhogar's dislocated shoulder popped in to place.. “See, my music is not so useless” Hazel would state, putting his chin up. “Just the effects are not often obvious.”

Not but a few hours later they were less than a quarter day's travel from their destination, but Arthur had recommended they go ahead and set up camp and finish the trip in the morning so they enter the town fresh.

The warm light of the fire reflected off of this weapons and armors that had been discarded for sleep, a light illumination cast against the side of a tent that had been erected with stretched cloth and and wooden spikes that created little dancing figures and silhouettes. Arthur sat on one of the make shift benches, fallen trees that they had pulled over next to the side to give them something to sit along, lightly poking at the fire to maintain it's heat as his eyes watched the natural show the fire cascaded off of various surfaces.

His transfixed state was interrupted when Hazel invited himself next to him, simply falling on to the log with no wait for invitation. Not that Arthur seemed to mind, only giving the man a warm smile before turning back to the fire. “Aren't you bored? You know I could play some music, fetch us a few drinks an-” Hazel started, but was quieted when Arthur shook his head. “I like watching the fire, and it lets me sit in my own head” he would state, straightening up a moment and gently touching the amulet that hung from his neck.

“A symbol of Lathander” Hazel noted out loud. “Makes sense, given how suddenly you brought all this together.” he would state. While Arthur nodded in agreement, another voice came; “Explain”. Hagun, stepping out from the side “I am not...entirely familiar with Human Pantheons. I know their names, but not their acts” he explained. Arthur started to part his lips to do just that, only to be cut off this time by Hazel excitedly answering “Gladly!” A sort who liked to be the one who did the talking.

“Lathander is the God of the Dawn, new days and new beginnings. No doubt our good knight here thinks this is the beginning of something grand, and believes his God will agree with him and bless our journey. Right, Arthur?” it seemed like a question, but his tone didn't hold that. A rhetorical punctuation to the end of his explanation, to which Arthur answered all the same “That's right”

Hagun seemed to snort at that, but didn't make a scene. “And what of you Satyr, do you have a God of this pantheon?” he would ask, an almost intrusive tone that didn't seem to at all bother Hazel. “Tymora, the Goddess of luck and good fortune! And what good fortune to be pulled together with stalwart companions yes?” That comment made Arthur smile, perhaps because Hazel was the only one who didn't treat Arthur's end goal as something ridiculous. He would look at Hazel for a moment, before turning to Hagun “And what of you? Do you worship the Orcish God, G-”

Hagun's expression told Arthur immediately that he had managed to offend the half orc, who just turned to look away. “I have need for no God” he stated in a tone that hinted at something much more to the answer as he began to walk away...only to roughly bump in to the Monk Brynolfr. Given how he had seen him fight earlier, and their sheer size difference, he wasn't fool enough to think the action was an accident. “Torm!” the little Dwarf simply announced.

“Next, you're curious minds would ask who guides my steel like fists!” of course, nobody was truly curious of this because it was all over his attire. His symbol of Torm was proudly displayed and he'd said as much in his drunken stupor the first night, although the statement of it did bring an incredulous look to Hagun's face. Torm was a human God, and seeing a Dwarf worship one just baffled him. 

Rhogar would invite himself over near the fire as well, dropping a rock near the fire to provide himself with a seat. “Bahamut” he introduced in to the conversation “The lord of Dragons and Justice, Bahamut” perhaps an unsurprising answer for a Dragonborn, but also not a common answer for Rangers who usually delved in to the realm of the forest God's. By now though, Hagun was long fed up with the conversation of God's, and made his way back towards the tent. He could just barely make our Servetere's silhouette through the fabric of the tent through the fire, and was briefly curious why she had not joined in on the conversation.

He slipped in to the tent, but before he could even inquire she spoke up “Have you noticed it?” she asked, which drew a somewhat confused expression from Hagun. “The goblin, he's been following us since the fight” she elaborated, allowing the orc's confusion to fade followed by a light shrug “We can take turns with the watch, but I doubt he'll attack” he stated, to which it was the tiefling woman's turn to give a confused expression. “Probably just interested in us, keeping tabs. Is that why you're in here alone, trying to keep watch without distractions?” a question to which she quickly shook her head “No, I’m just not good at talking, not in groups. I get anxious. I had fun the first night, and Arthur seems kind but most human lead groups...” before she could explain he would hold his hand out to stop her. “No, I understand.”


	2. A Simple Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They seemed capable enough when they came to town I suppose. I had spotted them from my post on their arrival, and I knew instantly why they were here. The Townmaster may be a fool and a coward, but he knows well enough than to throw the entire town guard at this problem. We're hardly a military, and this is the sort of this thing usually left to adventurers anyway. Still, it's an odd lot, I never thought I'd see a noble man travel with a half orc, and if I’m honest I’ve never seen a Satyr. That's why I was so quick to accept the assignment” - Townguard Quinton's Report

The last leg of the journey was fairly uneventful. A brief stop to replace one of the wagon wheels that was giving out, and another to give the horses a rest and a drink, but there was hardly anything akin to another ambush. As they came over the horizon the road gradually turned from dirt to cobblestone once more. The road let uphill, and then sharply back down in to the opening of a town of scattered buildings that left plenty of room for the lush green grass.

As the cart pulled in to the opening of the town, a nearby stable and a brief exchange of coin gave them a comfortable place to leave their horses and cart. Rhogar made a point to gently pat the beast of burden at it's shoulder, as if to tell it that it had done a good job, before they stepped out in to the town. While it was hardly the hustle and bustle of a major stop like Neverwinter, it was nice to see people about again. Although their presence drew immediate eyes and a few hushed murmurs.

It was enough that they were a group of adventurer's entering as a large party and lead by a noble man, but that they had a half orc and a tiefling in the group as well was simply salacious to many. “My contact should be waiting for us at the Townmaster's Hall towards the center of town” Arthur would start to say, but before he could get much further Hazel would grasp him by the sleeve. “Surely we're a little ahead of schedule? From the top of the hill I saw a shrine to the Goddess Tymora. I would like to pay it a visit” he would start, and before even receiving a response Rhogar cut in as well “I too spotted what seemed to be a temple to Bahamut.”

Noticing Arthur's hesitation to make a side trip, Hazel would pull himself a little closer to the knight's arm and speak in the oh so charming tone only a bard could muster “Surely it would behoove us to gain favor with our God's before a dangerous undertaking.” The red haired knight gave a smile at that, the kind that said that he knew he was being manipulated but that he also knew Hazel was right. They were ahead of time, and seeking the favor of multiple God's for the party was hardly a wasted effort.

“Perhaps then, it would be advantageous to split our group. I will secure us lodgings at the inn, Hagun and Brynolfr can take some coin and replenish our supply of rations and camping equipment. Servetere can...” as he turned to note the woman, she was already gone. He considered that for a moment before making a face and turning back to Hazel and Rhogar “And you two can visit your temples and earn favor from your worship.”

It certainly seemed a workable plan, and would ultimately reduce the amount of time they needed to spend in town. “At exactly midday, we shall meet infront of the Townmaster's Hall. No doubt by then he would have heard whispers of our arrival, if he is any good all politicking, and we can move ahead with our meeting.”

With that, Arthur would reach his hand out towards the group. It took a few moments for them to catch his meaning, but after some moments of thought they would all reach their hands in and lightly tag in each other before breaking off and heading different directions.  
Hazel approached the temple of Tymora on the west facing side of the small town. Such temples were unique to many places of worship as, as the goddess of luck, often times these temples contained games or gambling stands. While this was more often found in the large temples, which were practically casinos in and of themselves, even this one contained a small table with a betting pot in the middle for cards despite being an open facing building with only three walls, fully exposed to the outside.

Before Hazel could even say anything a golden coin was flicked his way skillfully from the thumb of a young but beautiful human woman with spilling golden hair. Hazel caught the coin out of the air mid spin, familiar with this ritual of the faithful of Tymora. Twirling it between his fingers for a moment he'd lift the coin to show how it landed with a skillful flourish; “Heads” he stated, before pocketing the coin. A simple religious practice, flipping a coin to a new stranger and allowing them to keep it if it was heads. If they were a true follower of the Goddess of Good Fortune, they would usually find that it was.

“Hail traveler” the woman said in pleased voice “Have you come to worship, or perhaps to make a donation” she asked, to which he quickly responded “Both” and extended his hand out for her. As she took it, offering him a firm handshake, she felt the single small coin inside of it. Hazel noticed at a glance an odd tattoo on the inside of her wrist, but didn't linger on it during the short lived exchange. At first, she thought this satyr fellow was quite smoothly offering her coin back to her, but as she retracted her hand she found a much smaller denomination; a single copper.

She didn't seem offended however, infact quite the opposite. She laughed at the exchange, and he couldn't help but answer it with a charming laugh all his own. “Sister Garaele” she gave her name, to which Hazel quickly offered a deep and over exaggerated bow “Hazel Barkley” he answered in return. “I am to take a dangerous journey soon, and I would pray for good fortunes on my travels” he explained, only for her to quickly rebut “Oh, but it seems you already have it. Still, I suppose it cannot hurt to stack the desk. You're welcome to use the temple.”

With her permission secured, Hazel would offer a flirtatious wink at her, one that bore no subtlety, and step inside the temple and find an appropriate place to fall to his knees to make his prayers. “You know I’ve heard of Satyrs” she would interrupt his silence before it even truly began. “That you're race only consists of men, and that you maintain your population by sneaking in to human cities and impregnating their women” her tone wasn't accusatory however, more curious...more flirtatious. “Perhaps after your adventure, you can return here and...educate me on the practice.”

Rhogar stood some ways away from the front of the temple. He looked a little scuffed, a little miffed, and more than a little lost in his own thoughts. His contemplations were broken by the now familiar sounds of hoof beats down the road from him, no doubt Hazel approaching having finished his prayers. The dragonborn's eyes lingered on the temple for another moment or two before he turned to Hazel, a suspicious narrowing of his eyes as he noticed how disheveled the man's clothes were.

“You don't look happy, problems with your prayers?” Hazel would ask, though if his concern was genuine it was hard to tell from his perky tone. “This is not a temple of Bahamut” he said, in a tone that was none to pleased. Hazel gave a confused look, and turned towards the building. Noting the Dragonborn in the distance, and the draconic decorations of the temple, all signs did indeed point to worship of the dragon god. “Then what is it?”

“A temple to Tiamat”

Hazel recoiled at that a bit “Surely not! Not in a town-” he started, for once his confident way of speaking disrupted for a moment “Not by their own admittance, but there is no Dragon God Shinryu as they claim to worship. When they slipped the word Goddess, betraying the gender of their worship, I knew it must be the evil dragon God Tiamat.” there was a brief, if a little awkward pause at that before Hazel spoke “Then we should tell the mayor when we meet him.” he suggested, which Rhogar shook his head “It's so poorly disguised, I would think the Mayor knows. Why he would allow this, I would find that answer. After our job.”

The air hung empty of words for a few moments, before Rhogar turned towards Hazel again. “Are you always like that?” Rhogar asked, to which Hazel gave a confused expression in response. “I can smell a woman on you, and I’ve seen you approach both Arthur and Servetere.” he clarified, to which Hazel gave a confident smirk. “Oh that, of course. I've never had trouble working my way in to hearts and beds” an answer that earned another question “And if Arthur or Servetere...” he couldn't even finish before Hazel shook his head “Servetere would never, It's just fun to tease her. Although Arthur is certainly the handsome sort.”

Rhogar made an expression that Hazel noticed immediately. Noticing that his disapproval had been caught, the Dragonborn was quick to clarify “I take no issue with you...bedding men. I have heard of such love” he didn't notice the way Hazel sort of rolled his eyes at that work “I mean, being so open and with so many.” he finished. “And why shouldn't I?” Hazel answered the insinuation with his own question “I enjoy myself, and I see to it that my lovers do themselves.”

“And what of love?” Rhogar quickly asked, to which Hazel finally just scoffed “That is the second time you've used that word. 'Tis not about love, I do intend to find that one day as well but now I am in the youth of my life. I have energy and fertility, it would be wrong of me to not share that with the world.” he answered. Rhogar didn't seem to follow the conversation or logic, and by the way he turned away the satyr could tell the man considered it going no where. As if the ranger had failed to dissuade him from his life style in three questions. He could tell Rhogar was trying to 'save' him, but he couldn't help but tease him with false misconstruing. 

“Oh, I get it. Your jealous! Well, you shouldn't be. You're quite handsome yourself, I bet your...scales feel strong and-” he was cut off by the way Rhogar's tone shifted and he turned on his heel to step away. Was he hiding a blush? Could Dragonborn blush? All questions that would not be answered, even as Hazel quickly turned to follow after him. “I'm just teasing you, come on, lets go shopping” he stated, wrapping his arm around Rhogar's own without permission to do so and showing off his shiny gold coin. “I got to spend this”

The Dragonborn was silent for a long moment, before sighing. “What would you even need with a single gold coin? We approach midday, and should be making for-” Hazel would interrupt him there “Well I need a few pieces of shattered glass, a couple of pieces of mica, and shavings of wood” he would explain, which got another weird look from the Rhogar...who's eyes turned up to the various similar bobbles that hung from Hazel's horns. 

Indeed quite a few little knick nacks hung from them; Some string a wool, a little pouch full of some kind of shavings, a small feather, some unlit incense. When they had met at the tavern he thought they were decorative, given how much care clearly went in to making them look appealing, but now they didn't seem so random. “For your...decorations?” he asked

“For more than decoration” Hazel answered.  
On the opposite side of town Hagun was finding himself quite unhappy to be placed with the task of refilling their supplies. He couldn't truly decide if he liked the small town nature of Phandalin more or less than a busy city like Neverwinter. It was a different kind of prejudice in small towns like this one, but it was still there in the way people eyes him and muttered about him. They were nicer to his face, and less prone to fight in taverns, but it was still there inbetween the lines and buried in undertones.

Still, as long as they perceived he was only half orc they would treat him well enough to trade him. The worst was the occasional comment about how he was 'well spoken for his sort' or one particular merchant bearing rations who explained the math of the purchase four times as if the Sorcerer was too stupid to understand it. His frustration was compounded by the way Brynolfr constantly tried to sneak various alcohols in to their supplies, insisting “Torm says Rum keeps the eyes vigilant!” something that Hagun was quite sure that particular God had never said.

None the less their shopping trip had been successful enough, and they returned to the town's entrance carrying a few bags of supplies and foodstuffs that they ultimately laid back in to the chest at the back. Throughout the entire prolonged adventure, Hagun had said maybe a handful of words to the dwarf and he hardly seemed interested in changing that. He shut the chest with a thud and went to lock it, only to pause and look up the hill in the distance. He had seen it, just for a moment, the goblin that Servetere had mentioned a half day ago. So it was true then, they were being followed. For a goblin to so skillfully trail them, that was something he did not quite expect.

At the center of town, Arthur stood outside of the Townmaster's Hall. He had finished his task first, but that was no surprise. As a knight he was punctual, but even aside from that securing the rooms was likely the simplest of the tasks. Though his self contemplations only lasted a moment before Servetere seemed to, suddenly, enter his peripheral vision. The red haired knight had always considered himself vigilant, but even still she seemed to step from no where just like how she had disappeared earlier.

“And what did you learn?” He would ask, his usual warm smile coming across his expression in some sharp contrast to how strong and stoically his posture stood. “I...apologize for disappearing without telling you my intentions” she started, to which Arthur gave a dismissive shake of his head that betrayed that he had known exactly what she left to do.

“Well, most people are aware of the goblin highwaymen like we encountered. However, from what I could gather from the murmurs in the barracks, it's pretty well accepted that the goblins are under the not-so-gentle guiding hands of orcish masters. Much like you suspected, I am confident we will find orcs below.” she explained, earning a careful and considerate nod from the knight. “That's exactly what I expected to hear” he stated, but in a way that his words trailed off. “But?” Servetere asked, easily catching his tone. “But I can't help but feel like that's too simple, too obvious. I felt a pull to this mission, that's why I accepted it. I cannot believe our first story together is yet another tale of a band of adventurers killing orcs.” he would explain.

The tiefling would give the man a curious look, but before he could push for the knight to explain she noticed the approach of Hagun and Brynolfr after him. Hagun shot her a look that told her all she needed to know, that he had finally noticed the goblin that had been trailing them as well. Although, if he had shared it with their dwarven companion it didn't show at all in his gait. A moment later, they'd be joined from the opposite side by Hazel and Rhogar, with the satyr seeming to bare a few more ornaments on his horns.

Finally, the party approached the Townmaster's hall as one and together. Immediately as they entered an armored human man all but lunged at the group and threw his arm out at Arthur. The red haired knight responded with his own arm, and they clasped one another's forearms in a tight pact. “Sildar, it's been too long” the young knight said excitedly “Indeed it has, Arthur my friend” he shot back. Sildar was obviously much older than Arthur, and seemed more worldly at first glance; his broadsword strapped against the back of his belt and it seemed the heavily by far compared to the younger knight's.

“Friends” Arthur turned a bit to face the group “This is my contact, Sildar Hallwinter.” he introduced, and very quickly the rest of the party was exchanging handshakes and introductions. “Well met, each and every one of you” he would state, before motioning further in to the hall “Though I am hardly the one you have to impress. If Arthur has chosen you for his ambitious little guild” his tone betraying that he, like some in the party, thought it was a bit of a ridiculous idea “But the mayor is the one who will be wanting to speak with you.”

Entering in to the mayor's room proper there was a long, square wooden table with a number of seats. At the head of the table sat a rather unpleasant looking, yet well dressed man. He was rotund, to say the least, and an older fellow at that. Sildar would speak in a hushed tone from the back of the group “That's Harbin Wester, the current mayor and town master. He's also the town's banker” her clarified for the group “He's a fine town master during peace time, but everytime there's violence or threat of conflict he resorts to trying to buy his way out of it. If he can't pay the people attacking us, he'll pay adventurers to deal with it. He's overseen a lot of the town's growth and done a lot for these people, but if war came? Everyone here would die.” Sildar was not subtle in his hushed briefing. 

Armed with a bit of information, the party fell around the table taking one seat after another with Arthur sitting at the opposite side of the long table. “It's good to finally meet you, good Townmaster Wester” to which the fat man have a large dismissive wave “You look like most adventurers now don't you” he said, settling his eyes on Hagun for a moment then back to Arthur “Even a half orc with you” the air in the room disappeared with a sucked breath from most of the party, but Arthur never lost his warm smile and Hagun did not lash out. “That's good, they're strong. I don't need nice looking sorts, I need your strong sorts.”

After that early moment of tension passed, the meeting with the mayor was rather straight forward. It became obvious to those paying attention that Arthur was quite skilled in the realm of talking, and while perhaps not as charming as their satyr companion he knew how to work a deal. There wasn't much in the way of new information to obtain, the same as Arthur had told them in to Neverwinter. Some years ago they had used adventurers to reclaim the mine from bandits and the undead, and just as their operations began to hit full steam this year every worker was forced out injured or dead.

“So that's it then” the Townmaster began “I'm willing to pay you twenty gold for this. That's a-” before he could continue Arthur clarified for him “Each.” There was a stunned silence in the room, that was clearly not what the the Townmaster meant. Everyone, including that selfsame Townmaster, seemed surprised with the sole exclusion of Arthur himself and Sildar; who looked like he had expected it. Arthur continued “You just told me your own armed forces could not handle this task, and you know as well as I do any party that would ask for less wouldn't be worth the coin.”

“Ten. That's a platinum coin each and easily fair” the Townmaster started to counter “Sixteen, and you'll get the worth of your coin.” Arthur show back. And so it was agreed.

“You'll have your coin after the problem is dealt with, and not a moment sooner.” he stated in an entirely unamused tone. “Very well, we shall leave in the morning” Arthur responded in kind. “Yes, you shall” was thrown back as if desperate to remain in charge of the conversation. “I will have a town guard meet you at the gates tomorrow at first light and he will guide you to the Mines of Phandelver. Now be out of my sight” the unpleasant man all but bellowed “You've robbed me of my money so you wont rob me of any more of my time” he said, but his bitterness didn't at all effect the red haired knight's smile.

That night at the tavern was a celebration amongst the party, all Hazel's idea of course. The inn was on the second floor of the tavern, the building serving as one structure for both, and Hazel suggested that they should spend the night in good spirits given successful negotiations and, in his words, to ease the burden of the next days travel. The whole tavern was alit with music and stories from the Hazel, who played his violin and stamped about on the table tops occasionally hopping from one to the other and knocking over tankards and foodstuffs.

Only Hagun had the good sense to abandon the fruitless battle of drinking against Brynolfr, whom had already put Servetere and Rhogar under the table with Arthur not that far behind despite having used his reserved noble nature as an excuse to drink at less than half the pace. Blessfully, before his loss was secured, Hazel jumped back from his position on another table and on to theirs. He reached down to grab Arthur by the collar and yank him up on to the table. “Come now, you avoided our last inn stay so tonight you will dance!” he exclaimed, and Arthur's eyes went wide as if in horror.

Arthur could dance, but only a slow dance. The kind you'd see in ballrooms and with nobles, nothing like the furious movements that Hazel tried to encourage. Hazel improvised a new song, this one about their fight on the trade way with the goblins. Instead of a dozen however there were four dozen, and instead of a quick and decisive victory it was a hard fought win; especially once all the bug bears and trolls and orcs started to show up in the story.

Later that night as the fires of the lanterns burned lower and most of the tavern was left or passed out, Hazel finally lowered his violin. Brynolfr was the only of the trio of Servetere, Rhogar, and himself still drinking with the tiefling woman long unconscious. Arthur seemed exhausted, his dancing was decidedly laughable but everyone was just drunk enough to laugh with him instead of at him as he had stumbled around all night. “Come my good knight” he all but coo'd “This time you'll be sharing a room with me. And if I find you've gone cheap, and we don't have a bath, I will never travel with you again I swear it!”

As he drug the knight away insistently, Rhogar could of swore that Hazel shot him a look that was nearly taunting.

The next morning was quick to rise for most of the party despite the night of drinking. Rhogar was the first downstairs, and noticing Brynolfr at the table he would lightly push at his shoulder to wake him. The dwarf shot up, and where the Dragonborn expected to see a man as hungover as he was there was instead almost an entirely sober looking man. “Late to rise, late to duty! So says Torm!” the monk immediately said and...for a moment Rhogar thought that may be something that particular God may have actually said.

A moment later Hazel came down, but instead of disheveled he was actually well dressed, and quite frustrated looking. Rhogar smiled at that, though he wasn't sure why.

The party traveled through the town as a single group this time and so, even in the early morning they drew several eyes. For some of the common folk things fell in to place realizing the orc and tiefling were with an adventuring party, that made more sense than them just wondering in to a human town. There were still murmurs, but more often people choked them back as the group drew near. Most commoners knew better, even in a small town, than to talk ill of a knight's company, and Arthur lead the troupe from the front.

As they made it to the front gate there was no mistaking their guide. A half elven man, easily observed by the way his ears were longer and thinner than a humans, but shorter and fatter than an elves. Too long for humans, but too thick and a bit too short to be elven. Blond hair, mid length, with a fine blue shirt with gold inlays overlaid across chainmail. His weapons definitely didn't seem like they were standard issue for a guard. Sure, he had a sword on one side of his belt, but he had a heavy hammer on the other and he wore no shield. “Hail” Arthur would call in introduction “You're to be our guide?” he asked, as if he didn't already know.

“Yes” the man said shortly as he pushed off of the edge of the shaped gate near the road. “My names Quinton” he stated, and as Arthur came in to shake his hand he was stopped short as the man instead bowed. That was more proper, one would say that it meant the guard knew his place proper, but Arthur seemed to frown a bit about it all the same. “At ease” he reassured, before motioning to the cart not far. 'That's ours”

Quinton's surprise was clear on his face, he had expected a noble man to travel a little...nicer. However we would give a deferential nod and step off to the side towards the cart, clearly intent to make preparations himself likely on the Towmaster's orders. “We'll follow the main for a quarter day, but to get to the Phandelver Mines in the Wave Echo Caves we'll be turning off of the proper road and down a trail the town's been working on fixing up. I'm not to put my neck out for you though, and I wont be entering the mines. This is your job, adventurers” he stated, as if he thought that job description was barely a job at all “I'll wait outside the mine for no more than two days. After that, i'll assume you dead and return that news to the mayor.”

The idea that the mine could be a two day venture, the whole of it underground, made Hazel consider how much he really wanted to do this. Not truly considering leaving, he had already grown to find this troupe as friends and was determined to finish this job, but the expression on his face said he didn't plan to be underground long. “I trust you have supplies?” Quinton would ask, and Arthur would nod “I sent Hagun in to town to shop when we first entered. If he followed the list we have rope, lanterns, and bedrolls as well as some cloth to set up tent with” he explained, but Quinton clearly didn't care to listen to most of it. It was their hide after all, he had only asked to see if they were truly prepared for the undertaking of dungeon diving.

The wagon was on the road within the hour, lead once again by a air of horses. Arthur instructed the pace, and it did not escape Hazel's notice how exact Arthur was with this preparations. Dictating walk and ride rotations, positions around the caravan, and the trotting pace they took through the roads. Sure, their guide held the map and directed their route but Arthur was very clearly the one in charge.

The wagon would eventually turn off the main road and on to a rougher path through the hills. There was a worn out path from where equipment and people had clearly trekked back and forth to the caves that lied ahead, but no work had been done to build a proper road besides perhaps clearing out some of the brush that could impede progress.

Hazel, ever present riding on the wagon, felt jolted as it came to a fairly sudden stop. He looked up to see Arthur with a hand raised and flattered, which he looked at for a curious moment before his eyes wavered to the side to notice Servetere looking down at the trail below, her eyes scanning off to the side of it before shuffling around in her pack for some kind of binoculars. “What is it, are we there yet?” Hazel asked incredulously. “Close” Arthur answered shortly as he lowered his hands.

“You're right” Servetere stated, as if answering a question that Arthur had not asked. “Someone recently rode towards the caves” she explained, before turning expectantly towards Rhogar. The dragonborn would nod and come around the wagon, stepping forward enough to investigate the other set of wheels and tracks.

“Not a civilized caravan. The way it drug across the ground the wheel is clearly locking, like it's axel has never been repaired. This footprints are bare too, and not hardly human. Small prints along them too.” he explained, to which Arthur nodded “Orcs and Goblins” he stated. More and more, this job was appearing to be exactly what it seemed to be. “If they're interested in the caves, they'll leave a camp at the entrance i'd bet.” he added, to which Rhogar sat up a bit. “The indention are quite deep, no doubt the caravan was heavy. Likely with troops, we can't rely on counting the tracks to see how many there are.”

Rhogar would nod to his own statement and then it was his turn to look up at the Tiefling woman, to which she answered him again without waiting for the question “I can do it, scout ahead”. With that she hopped down, and for the first time Arthur felt like he got to actually witness her disappearing act as she turned about the stoney hills and simply never seemed to reappear from the other side. Whilst she was out ahead, no doubt working already, Arthur turned back to the group. “Alright, give me an inventory of your magics, I have a plan.”

Grosk sat at the camp's fire pit, even though it was just ashes at this point in the day. The orc leaned against his great axe and gave a particularly unpleasant grunt. Why did his clansmen get to go down in to the caves, and yet he was stuck out here? He was an accomplished warrior, same as the rest. His eyes fell to the side as Brack, the goblin, approached nervously, holding his bent and damage traveling cup in both hands. That cheered him up, a toothy smile as he grabbed the cup full of some foul drink and used it to backhand the goblin away, sending it stumbling away. Grosk's dozen companions all burst out laughing at that, even exchanging several words in orcish, amused by the little goblin's suffering

The laughter was cut short by the sound of...music? He looked up to see a curious sight, a satyr man playing a harp. “Hail there! You aren't leaving your local satyr out of a party are you?” he asked, drawing the attention of the orcs. Surely, this was some kind of trick, and at first Grosk grabbed for his axe. “Now, don't be like that, I’m just here to play music” Hazel insisted and those words oddly echoed in his head; against all common sense and his better judgement he leaned the axe back against his seat and let it go. “Play your music” he said, letting go of his axe once more. “We kill you after, but if you play good it'll be quick” he stated, and from the way the others in the camp murmured in orcish it seemed clear only Grosk knew common.

They seemed confused my the order, but slowly shuffled in closer to the ashed over firepit. “That hardly seems fair” Hazel protested, even though he never stopped playing. As he stepped forward, one of the orcs moved behind him, with his weapon ready. The satyr clearly grew nervous at that, but continued to step forward even as Grosk responded “Orders are kill all who come. If we had women, or those for a taste of men, we'd keep you. I bet a satyr would like that. Not the case today though, adventurer. Today, you play then die. If you don't play now, you die very slowly.”

He didn't even notice as Hazel reached up, plucking some mica and decorative stones that had been hanging from his horn and tossing it back down. His hooved foot smashed down against it simultaneous to his fingers dragging a long, discordant tone from his harp followed by the harsh striking sound of...lightning? What instrument could make such a sound?

Suddenly an eruption in the middle of the group of orcs, a booming and deafening strike of lightning that charred their skin and sent them stumbling. They fell every which way, fumbling for their weapons each. The orc behind Hazel quickly raised his weapon, only to be impacted hard in the side of the heady by a heavy hammer and ran through with a sword at his spine.

As Grosk reached for his own weapon, his arm blackened in burn marks reaching for the huge age, a massive arrow plunged in to his opposite shoulder and threw him backwards several steps. He grit his teeth, balancing himself as another arrow wafted passed him and plucked in to another orc nearby keeping them from going from their weapons. Grosk could just barely make out the Dragonborn man in the distance, but he wasn't the only one he realized as he turned to the sound of another arrow. The satyr had dropped his harp and began plucking away with crossbow bolts.

Suddenly, in an eruption of violence, a half elf man with a a blade in one hand and a hammer in the other hopped in to the fray followed by a traitor orc with muddied blood and a halberd dosed in sickly green light. The few orcs that had managed to grab their weapons were no match, and the cowardly goblins were no use as they ran every which way. 

The two adventurers seemed to fight with an intent, every strike better put them to the flanks of the overwhelmed orcs until they were in a tight circle. The half elf made a habit of parry with his blade and striking, more like shoving, with his heavy hammer while the orc made a serious of butts and guiding cuts in the same manner from the opposite end. At that moment, Hagun would step back and Brynolfr would step in. His hand extended outward before he would make a wide slapping motion that sent a wave of fire over the gathered orcs; burning them further. Quinton stumbled back away from the flames, swearing under his breath, barely avoiding the fires himself.

Of course, he was an experienced warrior! He knew this strategy, they were attempting to overwhelm them; kill them all before they could get their weapons and set up positions! All he needed was his ask, he was strong and he was fast. Images flashed in his mind of how he'd get his axe, deflect the arrows, and then slay the Satyr. As he pushed for the axe a second time however, a second arrow plucked in to his leg and took it out from under him with such force than he fell face first in to the mud.

Thats when he saw Brack! The little goblin had taken to hiding behind the seating stones, right next to his weapon. “Goblin, there!” he shouted in orcish, pointing frantically at his axe “Throw me my weapon!” and he smiled when he saw the little goblin grab the massive axe...a smile that faded as the tiny man ran away with the weapon and hid even further away. He grit his teeth at that, and smashed his fist in to the ground. Pushing himself to his feet, Grosk shouted “Retreat, in to the caves!” he would shout, only to be struck in the chest with a third arrow that lifted him off the ground and sent him falling backward.

The burnt and wounded orcs stumbled together towards the mouth of the Wave Echo Caves, but they barely made it a few steps in before they felt throwing daggers beginning to pelt their chests and armor. Before them, a tiefling woman further in the cave with a spaded tail whipping about as she tossed dagger after dagger. They turned around quickly to retreat from their retreat, as it were, only to see the half orc coming at them with his sickly glowing weaponry. 

Hagun engaged the one at the fore, a very brief exchange of weapons. A strike, a parry, a butt from the bottom of his halberd in to the enemy orc's knees, and finally driving the weapon in to the orcs chest. Again, however, that green flame began to overtake him. Different from before, Rhogar noticed, instead of engulfing the one man it shot outward and struck each of the orcs in the cave with him. Finally, each began to fall one after another. Unconscious if not dead, or even in the best of conditions unable to fight.

The sounds of combat subsided along with the orc's will to fight. “What about the goblins?” Servetere asked “Leave them I think. I saw an orc strike one earlier, I doubt there's loyalty there, and none of them fought us” Hazel would state, before turning back to look at Arthur as the knight approached from behind. “I agree” he'd state, nodding to the one hiding with a weapon in the distance “No use killing those who aren't here to fight. Let them go.”

One after another each adventurer sheathed their weapon, looking over the enemy wounded as Arthur approached the downed on in the mud covered in his own blood; the one that had spoken common before. “All three arrows went all the way through. I am amazed you're alive” the knight would state, only to receive a splatter of blood to his cheek as the orc spit at him. “Now, don't be that way. I'm offering you the chance to surrender-” 

Arthur could hardly finish the sentence before he turned upwards, noticing the goblin as it ran forward recklessly. It attempted to raise the axe, several times it's size, and only barely managed to do so high enough that it's own weight would carry it forwards. A single, chainmail gloves hand would reach up and catch the axe from the shaft, stopping it in it's tracks. “Wasn't aiming for you! Aim for Grosk! Let me be!” shouted Brack, tugging at the axe. 

Arthur didn't spare the little goblin much thought, his eyes quickly falling downward to see the worst. The orc, whom had apparently been named Grosk, was dead. He had turned to try to roll out of the way as he saw the weapon drop, and in the process the knight could only guess he either tore his arrow wounds further open or put too much stress on his heart. At that, the red haired knight would sigh and just look up at the goblin with a warm but frustrated smile. “It's alright” he would state, lifting his hand in a way to order Rhogar to stand down, whom already had a large arrow knocked.

The little goblin clearly tensed, instinctively leaning away. He expected to be struck or killed, but neither came. “What's your name?” Arthur asked, which drew a long pause from the goblin who soon responded. “Brack” before pausing, and beginning to point out the other goblins that were hiding behind various tents or rocks, one after another a dozen or more of the little ones began to reveal themselves each with a name that sounded more like a sound you'd make when hit with a blade hilt than a proper name. 

“Well, Brack. Brack's, ahh, friends. We needed the orcs alive for information. I don't suppose you can tell us anything” he would ask, and the goblin would think for a long time before frantically shaking his head “Only Shaman allowed to know plan amongst goblins and he go inside. But, Brack knows map of caves in tents, and books and pictures! Let Brack go, and all yours.” he would fumble through his words. It didn't escape the knight that really, all of this was theirs for the taking anyway, but he would agree to the arrangement and let go of the little Goblin who quickly ran off. His compatriots also taking off to run every which way.

 

Arthur would stand up and nod to Servetere, who was already going through the tents and belongings. “One heck of a plan” Quinton would comment, stepping in towards the knight. “A simple one, one I've waged before. An unprepared camp is easy to take if you have a few people with area magics, even if they're weak.” he explained, to which Quinton asked a moment later “And using Hazel that way?”

“There's power laced in his music, I can feel it whenever he plays. I knew he would be the best bet to bring them close enough, but more impor-” | “But more importantly!” Hazel's own voice cut the discussion out, and with a few strums of his harp he took a sing song tone to his words “Our gallant knight, wise is he, wished only for me to see to thee a combative fair only if..” he paused, clearly losing track of his tone for a moment before one again singing the whole line and correcting it's end “Only if the orcs threatened me!” the tone...sort of worked.

That earned a curious look from the guard, Quinton, but a curiouser one still in the distance from Hagun, though if it was due to the unnecessary singing or the information itself was entirely unclear. None the less, the half elf man only shrugged “Well this is as far as I go. We seem to have a ready made camp here, I will prepare it so you may rest and begin your dive in the morning“

This evening, at least, they had more tents. The orcish troupe had prepared several large tents around a firepit they'd already dug out. Perhaps the only draw back was that the whole camp smelled like blood and piss, and you never knew when you laid down what mixture of animal bones and gore you'd fall on or near. For Hazel, the easiest solution was to just sleep outside on the ground rather than risk the smell, and as predicted Arthur would join him soon after. Shortly after, everyone would fall in line around the freshly started fire. Everyone except Hagun and Rhogar once again, who sat up in one of the tents.

“You mentioned before you have no God” Rhogar was the first to break the silence this time, and once more it was with a question geared towards trying to understand his party. “Yes” Hagun answered shortly, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment before Rhogar asked outright “Why?” and once again the question hung for awhile before the Dragonborn sighed and “You never really get involved in the conversation either do you?” this time, Hagun did respond. “I already never have time to myself, even when I’m alone. I grow weary of 'conversation'” a response that was curious to say the least.

He motioned towards the silhouettes cast against the tint by the fire, the entire party out there drinking and enjoying themselves. Servetere sat between Hazel and Arthur, laughing at some antics of Brynolfr's. “You should join them though” he stated, and although he didn't give any sign of it, Rhogar had come to know Hagun well enough to know he was being earnest. And so he did, stepping out.

Hazel awoke in the morning, surprised but not truly to find he was the last one awake. Not even the handsome half elf he had chosen to lay beside in the evening was next to him. Still, he thought to himself, he would be the quickest to prepare as it was. He didn't need to don heavy armors or string a bow or whatever it was sorcerer's did. That was of course entirely untrue, however, as carefully placing his horn ornaments, resting his crossbow bow on his shoulder, and finding a comfortable but fashionable way to strap his small sword to his belt meant he was not only the last awake, but the last to be ready.

He joined the group outside of the tents, most of them already waiting towards the entrance. This was it, he couldn't help but think to himself. Everything so far was prologue, this was why he joined this troupe. To dive in to some dungeon and hopefully, he silently prayed to himself, hopefully did something to make a name for himself.


	3. Chapter 3: The Wave Echo Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think I do still find the proposal silly, to be honest. I don't know these people or this knight, but thinking back on it I never once considered refusing it. More that I suppose I don't expect this all to last. Perhaps I see this as a chance to form new friends, make new company, but ultimately part ways. People don't talk to me normally, and I don't talk to them; only ever did I just watched them from afar. Yet, on this first ten day on our adventure we twice fought as comrades, and never had I expected my new companions to be so capable.” - Servetere's Personal Journal

The Wave Echo Caves that the mines supposedly laid in were certainly true to their name. As they descended further down, the caves took them under the open water that had been nearby before and so every time a wave crashed or the water shifted it sounded like thunder went off in the caves and the walls shook in a way that was unnerving even for the experienced adventurers. It didn't help that as they got further down the light of the above ground faded and soon a few members of the party were lighting torches. Hazel, Arthur, even the Dragonborn Rhogar needed the additional light it seemed.

Hazel adjusted his belt slightly as the weight of a sword there, and then pulled at the string of his crossbow. “Nervous?” Rhogar leaned over to ask, and that struck a cord with Hazel. Was he nervous? He was indeed often shifting his equipment or checking his torch. Yes, he was nervous, and even though he didn't answer he knew Rhogar could discern the answer from the way he patted his shoulder's and stepped forward.

As he looked around he noticed that there were several sconces on the rocky wall for torches to rest in, that made sense. Humans had taken this mine, and no doubt they would need the light, and yet now every one of them was empty and it was dark. Suddenly though, he noticed the flicker of the belt lantern on Arthur's belt. He hadn't noticed him light it before, but the intensity of the flames brought him back to reality. For some reason though, his eyes couldn't help but pull back to Servetere a moment later. She had begun to walk so confidentially and so boldly. And so, Hazel decided to emulate that.

Servetere did her best to stay towards the front, near to Arthur. She wasn't sure why, but she felt comfortable with this man nearby. Perhaps it was instinctual she thought, normal to defer to a party's leader. The hallway, which Servetere was beginning to suspect would never end, finally opened up in to a larger “room”, a natural cavern. Judging by the bedrolls and tents, this was likely a resting station for the workers who moved in and out of the caves, though she couldn't imagine ever sleeping in here with the constant crashing of waves.

“It's collapsed” Arthur's words broke everyone out of their individual thoughts to notice the flicker of the fire on his hips. Moving closer, they could see what he meant. There was a harsh, sheer drop that lead further in the caves. It looked like, before hand, man made steps or some kind of slanted path had allowed the workers to get down. If that's what it was, they couldn't be sure because now it was a mess of wood and pulleys.

“We'll have to scale it” Arthur would add after a moment, before turning to Rhogar and extending his arm out. The Dragonborn didn't necessarily enjoy being the pack mule, but he understood why he was given most of the dungeoneering packs. He was strong, and a head taller at least over the rest of them. Unslinging the pack with the climbing equipment he would toss it to the knight who so easily caught it and planted it on the ground. “We'll want light too, and it makes sense to light this cavern for our return. We could use our own slow burn torches, but check the tents to see if there are any here. Would make sense for them to be.”  
“Aye, I can do that!” Brynolfr spoke up. It was work that made sense for him, after all. He could see in this low light better than the others, and his God rewarded duty. As he disappeared in to the tents and store boxes of the area Arthur went to nailing down the spike. “Not exactly a noble born skill” would come a, perhaps rude, comment from Hagun. Arthur just offered a weak, dismissive shrug of his shoulders “A common one for an adventurer, noble born or not. Do you think I expected to dungeon dive without getting my hands dirty?”

“Then when we set long camp, would you help dig the latrine” Hagun asked, this time as well spoken as the half orc was there was no hiding out rude the question came out, enough to earn a somewhat dirty look from Hazel, who almost seemed offended in Arthur's place. Infact, Arthur seemed not offended at all, just giving a smile and turning back to focus on dropping the rope “Of course. I am a knight, not a governor or, Lathander Blessed, a Prince.”

Before the conversation could continue, the chamber flashed with it's first sign of light moments before it's second. Brynolfr had not only found the slow burning torches, but was sprinting in full tilt from one sconce to another. Any tension melted away like butter, especially when Servetere began to giggle; just watching the shorter man run and jump all around the room lighting torches, seemingly, without any flint.

Arthur was the first down the rope, straddling over the side and carefully making his way down. His belt lantern helped illuminate the way down, and gave him the vision he needed to occasionally nail in loops to secure the rope better against the rock face; hoping to make the climb a little easier and the rope a little more secure as his allies would begin to descend after him.

Of course, by the time he touched down Brynolfr had something landed next to him. The knight looked up at the rope, and then back towards the dwarf before giving a little laugh upon realizing the monk had not even used the rope at all; “Show off” he commented before shouting up towards the rock face “Alright, next! Take it slow.” There was a bit of chatter above, no doubt the group discussing among themselves whom would go next.

Servetere was next down the rope, and certainly the climb wasn't difficult for her. She was an agile woman with a strong grip and experience in difficult terrain. Next came Hagun, and while the weight of his weapon was a concern he didn't have too much trouble stepping down the rocky face, taking perhaps a little extra time to secure his footholds and make sure he didn't fell. Arthur couldn't help but note how much he avoided looking down, or how uncomfortable it seemed. It was a good thing, Arthur thought, since for lack of a better term it humanized the usually silent and strong standing fellow.

Rhogar went next, which was some slight concern. In truth, most of why Arthur had reinforced the rope as he went down was for the concern of the Dragonborn's weight. Fortunately his fears were for nothing, and he should have known better. Rhogar was a ranger after all, and seemed to have experience climbing. Sure there was some strain put on the rope, but the Dragonborn took it slow and tried to take weight off of the rope with footholds whenever he could until he was close enough to the ground he could simply let go and fall the short distance to the bottom.

Finally, there was Hazel. He had been pacing back and forth at the top as each member of the party began their claim, more than a little nervous. Sure, most Satyr's were quite skilled at climbing rock faces with their hooves and legs, but Hazel was not a typical Satyr. He liked nice, flat surfaces and paths. But that's not why he was here, he reminded himself. A deep breath, and he began his own descent.  
All was well, until about halfway down the rope. One of the holds that secured the rope snapped, causing a part of it to swing. This normally wouldn't have been a bit of an issue, but combined with Hazel's nerves and inexperience on the climb his foot kicked out desperately for a foothold, only to slip off of the stone. The shock of feeling his leg slide against the surface caused him to let go of the rope, and a moment later he was falling. 

Arthur was quick to react and dove to catch him, to some success. Both men hit the ground hard, tumbling one over another. Hazel still carried the momentum of the fall and felt his ankle twist in a funny way, that made Rhogar wince and turn away for a moment before stepping in with clear concern for the Satyr. As they sat up, he would wince and quickly pull himself over the wall; more embarrassed and mad than hurt. 

Arthur made sure he was comfortable before turning up to look Hazel in the eye “Can you heal it? I have a kit for mundane aid but this serious you'd not be able to walk for a day” he explained, a silent moment before the red haired knight nodded tot himself before reached back towards his pack, only for Hazel to grasp for his wrist. “No, I can. I just...I can only heal twice a day. It feels like such a waste to use it so early” he stated, his ears drooping a bit. The shame melted away however, as Arthur placed a hand on his head.

“Not every wound is of combat, part of adventuring is wounds of the land. Twisted ankles happen, and the deserve no less attention.” Arthur explained, and that made Hazel cheer up a bit. With that, he'd reach for his harp, thankfully undamaged by the fall, and careful strum out a song laced with healing powers. His ankle popped back in to position in a way that made Rhogar wince again, but after that Hazel pushed off of the wall. Looping an arm around Arthur's neck he brought himself to his feet, and tested the leg a few times by putting weight on it before he pulled away.

As if realizing he had made some kind of mistake, he would give a whine of pain and suddenly fall back against Arthur in a swooning motion. “Is it not healed?” the knight asked quickly, catching him as best he could. “Oh, but it is sir knight! Unfortunately, the pain persists despite the healing. It simply aches too much to walk on” he lied “But you're so strong, you can carry me for some paces?”

Rhogar made a face at that, rolling his eyes as he turned away. Arthur willingly gave in to the request however, turning about and kneeling down, holding his arms back in a way that would make it easy for Hazel to mount on to his back for what was, for lack of a better term, a piggy back ride. Something to which the Satyr immediately took too, and with that the knight would stand to carry the Satyr.

“Alright, Rhogar you're on point. You have sharp eyes, keep them out for traps or guards ahead”

The journey through the caves were either unsettling or exciting, depending on ones perspective. It was dark enough that only the torches provided enough light to fill even a small room, and then it'd cascade off of the damp rock faces. Every time the water above smashed the cave it was hard to be sure if the cave was rocking from the impact or if it was just ones imagination edged on by the lightning like sounds of the impact.

Deeper in to the caves, Rhogar would lift a hand to call the group to a stop. He would toss his torch a bit forward so it'd land near enough to the ground to illuminate the floor and walls, and the little silvery line that went from one wall to another; a trap. He would motion forward and Servetere would wordlessly slip forward, removing a small pack from her hips.

She held the line in one hand and pulled a pair of clipped with the other, making a very careful cut in a way that wouldn't allow the trap line to fall either lack or tight. She would then look up and give Rhogar a simple nod before retrieving the torch and returning to the group, all the while sort of lifting to fingers and making a flicking motion further down the hall. 

Arthur would very carefully place Hazel down, who pretended to test his ankle before nodding that he could stand. Servetere would press against the wall near the end of the natural stone hallway and looked out. A few orcs, but much smaller than the encampment they had handled before. She would make a hushing motion with her finger, before disappearing.

A moment later, a grunting sound as she buried a knife in to an orcs back and in to his lungs, withdrawing it quickly enough before tossing it in to the throat of the other. To call it a fight would be too giving, finished in a moment. “Traps and patrols” Arthur would mutter to the group “Can't be far.”

As they ventured further in to the caverns, occasionally passing little by-rooms made of doors carved in to the walls. Store rooms and and the like that they used occasionally to rest their legs and take in some rations before continuing on. More traps, a few extinguished but recent fires from the orc troupe they were no doubt not far behind, and occasionally the bones of some unfortunate animal that orcs or goblins must of made a meal of. Once or twice they had to turn back from some hazard and find a new way around, such as a room full of dangerous fungi or another room half collapsed.

Finally they came to a large room, and quickly pushed against the wall away from the door. Light filled their eyes as the open room, large enough to be some kind of huge barracks and littered with tables, chairs, braziers and torches and all matter of other necessities. More disturbingly, the room was littered with bones and corpses. Within there were three, and only three figures. A goblin dressed down in shamanic gear, and a large orc with one good eye, and...a drow. That was odd, and Hagun exchanged a brief confused look with Arthur. They were speaking, but none of the party could make out the words.

The drow woman was tall, and wore some kind of fanciful leather armor that almost seemed more decorative than practical. Black, sure, a few shades darker even that her skin perhaps, but laced with golds and other flashy colors.

This seemed like another easy situation, and sure enough the tiefling woman was already low to the ground and preparing to disappear once more in between tables and shadows. However the moment she was a few steps in to the room, as well concealed as she thought she was, the large orc turned towards her and his one single eye seemed to shine. In a single moment a hammer materialized in the air infront of her and impacted her hard in the chest, sending her doubling over. He grabbed a symbol hanging from his neck before speaking something to the drow in an orcish tongue. 

“He's a cleric!” Hagun growled out to Arthur, and the knight stepped off from the wall and noted the way the orc began to speak in some prayer. “Can anyone stop a cast?!” the knight quickly shouted back to the group and without missing a beast Hazel stepped forward.

Pulling his harp from his back he drug his fingers across the instrument and made an unpleasant, discordant note that seemed to tear the weave and end the prayer. The movement was desperate however, too sudden and left the satyr far too open. The goblin shrieked something in an unpleasant tone and fire erupted from it's hands with such force it knocked the little man off of his feet and send the blast right towards Hazel.

This was a cast Hazel couldn't stop, and he took the flames to the chest, thrown to the ground roughly. “Take cover, pin down that Goblin! Hagun, get Servetere and Hazel!” the red haired knight called out, stepping in to the room enough to press his boot against the edge of one of the tables and push down to flip it towards him to provide some minor cover.

Rhogar quickly readied his bow. Whether it was the panic of the moment, or he had misheard Arthur's order, he let loose an arrow at the one eyes orc instead of at the shaman. While the arrow landed true, it piercing the orc in his left side and causing him to collapse to his knees, it gave the goblin caster enough time to cast a spell of mirror imagery. 

As the goblin duplicated across the room, the drow stepped forward, swearing in a language none understood as it tossed out several daggers with eery and unnatural accuracy, the first of which piercing the string of Rhogar's bow. The incredibly taught string snapped with a sound like an intense pop, snapping against his arms painfully...but nothing as painful as that same dagger digging in to his ribs. Followed by what must have been a dozen more across his torso, peppered with the blades that the drow threw with little flourishes and spins before the dragonborn was able to fall behind a nearby table.

Brynolfr bounded over the table towards the little shaman with a shout “If you'll make a dozen yous i'll make a dozen punches!” Immediately the situation descended in to chaos. While it had been easy to follow the knight's orders before, in every other instance they knew what they would be doing before entering the conflict. Hagun was able to slide out in to the room quickly enough to grab Servetere by the sleeve and Hazel by the back of his neck and pull them both behind the table.

“For Gruumsh!” the orc called out as he lifted his weird, dirt ridden holy symbol in to the air. 'Oh, this isn't working' Arthur thought, reaching out to finally undo the ties on his swords.

It was like lightning, Hazel thought as he looked up through his blurry eyes. A sudden streak of red across his vision that it took him a moment to process as Arthur.'s hair and cape The knight had covered the distance between the party and the enemy group in a flash, his red cape flared like a streak of red lightning as his weapon extended out all covered in light and bluster, the first appearance of the knight's rapier.

A cross forward in to an advancing balestra, fancy fencing footwork that gave the orc no time to respond if he even could have kept up with the quick motions of the blade in the first place. The whole room seemed to freeze for a moment, as if it took the one eyed orc a moment to realize it had been run through. The knight quickly pulled back, his long rapier shining in the flame of the nearby brazier as he brandished it, controlled only with his wrist with the blade guided like a maestro moved his wand. The rapier tip would glide across the orcs neck and it stumbled back, giving the foe a graceful death.

The knight's eyes turned over just in time to catch the drow moving in on him with blade drawn, a long curved sword in one hand and a wavy dagger in the opposite. A semi circular footwork motion brought the knight around the face the new opponent, and cursed to himself as he looked past the drow's shoulder enough to see Brynolfr on the ground bleeding behind him and the goblin shaman beginning some kind of spell or prayer.

“Not Guards” the first, thoughtful words from the drow “I wouldn't expect the Lord's Alliance to have found us so soon” she said, disengaging her weapon from Arthur's, passing it back and forth the knight's blade a few times before lunging again in to another parry from the knight, whom returned with a quick reposte that was caught by the drows dagger.   
“No” she'd correct himself a moment later “You aren't with the lord's alliance are you? That's not a military troupe, adventurers perhaps?” The exchanged continued, though the knight didn't respond. It was clear the Drow considered this match of blades a game, no doubt overly confident. These dark elves lived for hundreds of years, and she doubtful considered the human knight an equal; something that was to Arthur's advantage.

This continued back and forth, clashed, parried and disengaged. Every now and then the drow would force an advance on Arthur to make the knight retreat, and it would be successful for a moment, before the knight would make an attacking advance or lunge. “You're a very aggressive fencer” the drow said, in a way that almost sounded like a compliment. “I'd have most of your type against the wall by now.”

Every now and then Arthur allowed himself to be distracted just enough to see the shaman in the distance continuing whatever magics it was working on, and while he wanted to call for Hagun he could tell in the corner of his eyes that he was trying to gather and regroup with their wounded. A deep breath, and Arthur would give the drow what he believed she wanted. He would make a retreat, and then feign a mistake. Letting the tip of his blade drop low in a way that opened his chest and neck to a lunge.

“It's over dear knight!” the drow took the bait full on, pushing off of her back leg in to a lunge. Arthur quickly popped his blade straight up, hard parrying the incoming strike upwards and far off from the drow's defensive line while bringing his own blade tip in to position. Arthur pushed off of in his own lunge, and the drow retaliated with a desperate parry. The knight reacted with a quick disengage, dropping and rolling his weapon about before lashing out with a series of cuts.

A gash across the under side of the her armor, mangling her weapon arm, followed by a roll of his wrist that brought the blade around in a beautiful half circle motion that allowed him to pull it down and cut across the woman's upper leg and force her in to a kneel. “Wait, no!” the drow called out, and to her credit it did cause the knight to hesitate with the tip of his blade against the woman's throat.

Double so when he looked up to see that the shaman had completed it's spell. Bones rattled and corpses shook, and the knight stepped back. He should have finished the drow, he should have done anything other than the baffled look he gave as they became rapidly surrounded by easily a dozen undead. The drow staggered to her feet, holding his wounded arm, before dashing straight through the nearby wall...no doubt some form of magic.

Arthur made a mad dash back towards the grouping of the party, sheathing the rapier and drawing his long sword as he moved through the swarm of the undead. The heavier sword had better heft, and aided in cutting deep in to the leg of an undead he moved past, and shatter the skull of one of the skeletons as he moved through the group. 

“We should retreat” the knight would insist, a little out of breath as he came to Hagun, guarding their wounded friends. “It's not an option” Hagun retorted “Not unless you plan to abandon your allies here. Most can't walk, and Hazel is the only one of us able to heal” he would state, motioning to the burnt satyr who was in and out of consciousness it seemed, barely aware and in no shape to cast a spell. A long, deep silence fell over the two of them, with no plan in sight.

“They should collapse if we kill the shaman” Hagun spoke, to which Arthur shook his head “I was lucky to make it over here, let alone through the mob ahead” he would retort. “You wouldn't make it” Hagun agreed “But I would.”  
After a moment, as if he knew something the others didn't, Arthur would nod. “They'll ignore me” Hagun begun to explain “So no doubt they'll continue to come to you. You'll need to keep them safe.” At that, Arthur gave his own smile as if he had secrets to reveal “They wont get passed me. I have another plan though” he would state, looking through the small hoard of undead to the shaman that seemed to be dancing around and controlling them, now raising ghosts to join the hoard of afterlife foes “The goblin before mentioned only the shaman knows whats really going on.”

The half orc would nod and, with a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet with the bottom of his polearm. It seemed to shift and change as he came to his feet, the wood seemed rotted and the blade seemed to rust, but for the first time it seemed truly natural. Like before it had all been some magical glamor hiding the truth from the world as Hagun approached the hoard.

Sure enough, the undead ignored him. As if he was invisible, or else one of them, the half orc would just shift and turn and shoulder through them. Arthur stepped around the table and, once again, Hazel's blurry vision focused on him. Had the knight's lantern always burned so bright on it's hip? It seemed like the intense fire threatened to break free of the lantern, and the knight stood so full and so tall infront of the table that it almost seemed right that the undead ceased their advance.

Could the undead be afraid? They must have been, because despite shifting and staring towards the group not one of them advanced. A few even began to turn and move off in other directions, ignoring the half orc and yet unwilling to approach the knight with the flame on his belt.

Soon the half orc was halfway through the hoard, and then a moment after he was emerging from the other side infront of shaman who, very suddenly, ceased dancing. Suddenly, he was very aware that all of his mirrors were gone; destroyed by Brynolfr earlier before the drow stepped in. His orc ally was death, and the drow had retreated. “Oh” the little man said in common, as if he simply didn't know what else to say, and before Hagun could even bring his halberd around the goblin said in no uncertain terms “Vrakk gives up.”

The undead, one after another, began to collapse in to nothing and Arthur let out a deep breath that he felt like he had been holding on to for days. As if he just realized how the flames of his lantern bit at the top of it he reached over to turn it down and quickly came around the table to kneel next to Hazel again. “Hey there” he said, softly, “How are you holding up?”

“I'm alive, I think” he said with a bit of a slurr, before wincing. Reaching forward, Arthur laid his hand on Hazel's chest. “I know it hurts, but everyone is hurt right now. You're the only one who can heal them” he explained, and as if in turn with his words Hazel felt a fire burn inside of himself. Suddenly, his wounds didn't hurt as much and it was a little easier to breath. He noticed Arthur turn down his lantern once more, then looking him in the eye: “Fetch me my harp, handsome.”

Hagun took his time tying off the wrists of the Shaman, and he could hear the sound of music as he began to march him back to the table. The pull of the weave was no doubt in the song, and even just hearing it he felt more rested. He would shove the goblin forward, sending him stumbling towards that upturned table they all hid behind.

They ached, they hurt, and they were a little more than humiliated at losing to a party half their size. Even though the music helped tend their wounds, pulling them shut and removing their aches, there was some kind of pride there. They had come across their first group of equal foes, and they had come out the victors. For now, they would rest in the calm melody of the music.


	4. Chapter 4: Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm sorry. I was so inspired by you, and all that you do. The way you lead. I thought we could take back the moment, I thought I could help. I thought for once in my life, maybe I could make the right decision. I've always been a screw up, my life has always been a mess for reasons that are no one's fault by my own. Perhaps, for one moment, I thought this decision would be different. I thought I could be like you.” - Unknown Passage

A few hours passed before everyone was in shape to stand again. Rhogar spent his time sitting away from the group, working on restringing his bow while Hazel played that magical song of rest for the entire time, bringing energy and health to the group. The rest, which the exception of Athur, took turns taking watch. Hagun had, at some point, had the idea to seal off the entrances to large passage by pushing tables against the entry ways and Servetere and taken the time to set up a few small traps.

Arthur stood over the tied up goblin, keeping his sword to the little man's throat. “Well, Vrakk was it?” the knight asked, and the goblin gave a sort of deep pout.

“Sword not necessary, Vrakk tell all. Orc dead, drow gone, no love for either.” the goblin stated, and Arthur would turn up to look at Hagun who offered a quick nod. He understood the knight's caution, but this was just like the goblin folk. They were cowards, and most often when they worked for orcs it wasn't for the want to do so. 

“Goblin group lead by bug bear named Kruggek in cave down road” he started, and this so far matched up with everything they had learned from the goblins off the road, and the one before at the camps. “Orcs make deal with Kruggek, we forced in to service of orcs to help drow. Drow give us many weapons, help teach with many magics, in exchange for forces to take cave. Goblins no like, but Kruggek strong and even if not orcs are many so we agree.”

So far, most of this could have been pieced together Arthur thought. It seemed obvious now that the drow were behind the taking of the mines and no doubt employed the services of the local orc bands, who then further forced the local goblins in to their service. Still, it gave the last few pieces of the puzzle. “What do they want down here?” Arthur asked.

“Vrakk not sure, overhear dumb eye orc talk of many magics. Talk of waiting for drow to gain access to flames before killing all drow. Blue flames of powerful magics for many many weapons and many many spells and many many spell weapons and-” Arthur would lift his hand to stop the goblin and turn to the group. “Well, I guess we're too the truth of it then.”

“So...Is Vrakk free to go?” the Goblin would ask, looking around from one to the other. With a deep sigh, the knight would nod and slip around, reaching out to undo his bindings. “Wait” Rhogar interrupted “Can we trust him not to...bring back all those undead, to surround us once more with ghosts and goblins?” he seemed legitimately concerned, though Hagun was quick to raise his hand. “Goblins are cowards” he stated, right infront of the goblin. “He wont risk attacking us again”

Hagun's confidence seemed like enough for the knight, and Arthur finished removing the restraints. “Run” Hagun said in an unnervingly demanding tone, and sure enough the goblin took off running, disappearing in to the halls of the echoing cave towards the entrance. 

Arthur interrupted Hazel's snickers at the retreat by saying simply: “Well, we should get moving”  
“Should we stop for the rest of the night? We could set camp here, make a fire of the brazier” Hagun would ask, pushing off his seat to sling his bow around his arm. Arthur seemed to consider that for a moment, looking back towards where the Vrakk had just retreated. “I wish you'd have suggested that before we let the goblin go” he would state, to which Hagun would offer a shrug “Like I said, he wont do anything”

A long silence, before Rhogar would cut in “I agree with Hagun” and then caused Arthur to turn towards him. “We'll be taking a risk, camping in enemy territory” pause “But, we've been on our feet all day.” he would concede, for Hazel to quickly add “I've also expended my healing for the day. I'll need at least a few more hours before I can pluck the weave more.”

Finally, Arthur would concede with a sigh and motion outward. “Pull a few braziers in to the middle. Hagun, get the undead corpses out of here. We'll pull the few tables we have left together to serve as beds to keep us off the ground. Servetere, check your traps.”

With that, they got to putting together their makeshift indoor camp. It probably took half an hour in and of itself, but soon enough they were as comfortable as they could be deep within. Yet, most of them sat up on seats or stones and those that had laid down to sleep mostly laid awake, staring at the ceiling. Even if they could calm their nerves enough to sleep, the constant impact of the waves would shake them back awake.

“So for the elephant in the room” Servetere would state, and all eyes would turn to her. Her already red skinned cheeks seemed to turn a little redder at everyone staring at her, and she wanted to disappear. She pressed on though “Why didn't those undead attack you” she started, and after a brief pause Rhogar spoke up as well “What you said the other night, about how you're never alone.”

Hagun responded by reaching up and tugging down his torn leather clothing just a bit more to reveal what appeared to be the aftermath of a grievous wound. Like a deep impact that whirled around itself and punched in right at his heart. “This is my pact mark” he explained. “I am not a sorcerer.”

This didn't seem to come as a surprise to anyone who had been paying attention, except of course maybe to Hazel who gave a deep gasp that nobody could tell if it was earnest or for play. “Rhogar, and a few of you I presume, already know that I am something of a local hero to an orc tribe a ten day out from here.”

“When the Many-Arrow tribe broke their treaty and attacked the silver marches and beyond, it was because they were manipulated. Our chieftans became tyrants, and I rebelled.” Arthur and Rhogar didn't react to this, but the rest of the party turned their eyes in not having heard this story. “What most don't know about my little rebellion, is that I lost. I laid dying deep underground when I was found by a powerful lich. He gave me my life, and my power, but in exchange he is always here. In my head.” he explained. 

He braced himself for retaliation, for someone to call him evil or cursed. However, upon looking upon the party, he saw more curiosity than bile. “You know all I feel like sharing now” he would say after a prolonged silence “We'll talk more when we're done with this job, and each of us out alive.”

That would cause Hazel to give a bit of a pout and a harumph, wanting more of the story for sure, and so he would roll about on to his opposite shoulder to face away from Hagun and towards Servetere, who had taken a seat nearby.  
“It's not like it was with Arthur” Servetere would say to him, turning to look down at the laying satyr. “He stood up there, facing all those undead, and he doesn't have a lich pact or anything” she would state, and that made Hazel turn his head a bit. “You were watching, I saw you watching him” she added and he would smile. “Of course, he makes good inspiration for the song i'll sing of our fights here” he would state, and she'd quickly shake her head. “Do you fancy him?” she asked.

Hazel would make a face at that, before returning to a lax expression and giving a shrug. “Why, are you jealous i'll take my eyes off of you? No, Servy, you don't have to worry about that” he would say, and she would laugh at him. “Servy” she repeated “I like that”

The morning came without any ado, no birds chirping or excess sunlight. If anything, it was darker than it was before as most of the brazier's had began to burn out. Hazel probably would have slept another hour if the cold didn't wake him as the fire nearest to him burned down to it's embers. He sat up just in time to notice most of the party gearing up, and he immediately reached up to feel the burned in hole to his once nice outfit. He sighed, thinking about how silly he probably looked with a bare chest, and pushed down off of the table.

Hazel approached the party to find them all in conversation, planning he figured. “What did I miss?” he would interrupt. “Servy went to scout ahead and-” Arthur started, and Hazel immediately cut him off; “Servy?” The knight would nod at that “She asked us to call her that this morning” he explained, before continuing on “She reported that the drow camp is a few halls down, to the....north west? We think it's north.” he explained.

“Arthur had asked me to assess the threat, if it was a large camp we would retreat back to the surface. Looked like just two drow, there was an orc with them but all and all it seems like something we can handle” she explained, to which Arthur nodded “So all and all, I think we should press on.” he'd add. “The one you fought earlier, the woman” Servetere would start “She looks healed”

“I'm not surprised” Arthur would respond, motioning towards his weapon. “I only got two cuts in, and she was wearing leather armor. I'm sure they were shallow, and easier to heal than our wounds were. If we're healed, it fits that she would be too.”

“So we're going to siege their camp?” Hazel asked, and Arthur would shake his head. “If that was the case we'd get reinforcements, even with only a few of them they're still drow. One of them made quick work of us” the knight would explain “We'll head East” he would explain, before motioning back to Servetere.

“The blue flame that the Goblin mentioned, I found a room a bit down that has a strong blue light coming from under the door. If we can get the blue fire that they're after and secure it, then we can get back to town and get reinforcements for the drow later” she explained. It was a plan, and Hazel had to admit he was relieved that it wasn't one throwing them headlong in to combat.

With that, they gathered up their gear and made their way out from their make shift camp. The crawl through the rest of the mines wasn't terribly complex, at one point they moved through a large room with a huge dip that could only be described as a gash in the earth which likely functioned as the primary mine. Hazel made a few points to kick some pebbles down in to it as they progressed before the party turned to head east and, it seemed, loop back around south again on the other side of one of the halls.

As they grew nearer to a set of double doors, Servetere motioned for the group to stop before pulling her hand forward and guiding their vision to the bottom of the door where a weird blue light flooded out. Servetere would approach the door and, very carefully, push one oft the two doors open. So cautious and slow that it didn't even creek. After a pause though she would straighten up and motion the party inward.

The room was quite large, with shelves on every wall filled with trinkets and magical items. Two more doors, one on the south and one on the north, provided alternate ways in and out of the room. Sort of messily shoved inbetween two of the shelves was a rack of ores that seemed much more recent than the rest of the objects, carefully labled in common word.

In the middle of the room was a large brazier, burning with a healthy blue flame. “Phandalin had to know about something like this since they reclaimed the mine” Arthur would comment, and even though it was more to himself than anything Hagun would nod. “They've probably been using it to enchant their excavated metals some how. It explains how they've gained so much money.”

As Arthur approached the brazier, and as he did a little floating eyeball sort of spun in to existence. Four small stalks extending from the center eye, each with a little eye itself. The knight stumbled back a bit with a gasp, and but before he could over react the little eye responded “Hello, are you one of the masters employees?” he asked, and Arthur blinked.

Hagun stepped in, quietly whispering to Arthur. “This mine has to be centuries old, and this flame is no doubt conjured of immense magic. No doubt, the original summoner of this flame created this being.” he explained, and just as if on queue the little eye continued to 'speak' in a way that seemed so natural, it took Arthur a moment to realize it didn't have a mouth.

“It was odd that he disappeared for so long, so long I forgot his face! But then people came back, and they said they worked for my master and they were putting the mind back in order. Oh but, you should know this...if you're working for them” suddenly, the eye seemed defensive. Rhogar would have described it as 'on it's haunches' because, even though it had no such haunches, the little stalks raised.

“No, of course we are” Hazel spoke up “We're just new, and nobody told us about you. I'm sorry to be so rude” the satyr would say, before giving a deep bow. “Oh, okay!” the little eyeball said, before fluttering off “Just be quick with your business, and remember it's a violation of policy to use the flame on personal items! I'll check back in in a few hours!” and with that it would spin and twirl out of existence again

“It's a little heavy looking” Arthur noted “But I think we can still move it. If we can get it back to our camp, I'm sure we can take turns moving it in teams of two” the knight explained, walking around the tall brazier “We'll need to be careful not to be burned while moving it.”

“You've already been burned” a female voice came from behind them, and the entire troupe spun around on their heels. It was the female drow from before, this time accompanied by an older looking man. He looked like the kind of sage that may normally carry an air of authority, but in this instance he seemed to completely defer and submit to the female presence. His posture was low and week, and he always stayed behind her.

A moment after the northern door opened and in came a few orcs, each one armed to the teeth with a bug bear towering above them.  
Arthur looked to Servetere to see her somewhat panicked look, the way she shook her head said she didn't know. “Oh don't blame her, poor knight” the drow woman said. “You cannot outwit the drow, we are masters of a game you hardly play novices in. She saw what we wanted her to see to get the desired result. We knew you'd flee if you saw” she would state and motion with her arm.

Behind the two drow at the double door another came around, this one wrapped in white cloth wrapped around him like bandages or some kind of cut up cloak that covered every ounce of his form, if it was a him. If not for the point black ears and his one red eye that almost seemed to glow, you wouldn't be able to tell he was a drow.

Bad got to worse as the southern door opened, and two more drow entered in to the room while goblins began to join the orcs to the north. These ones seemed like foot soldiers wearing uniforms and using standard weapons. Oh, this was bad. “I wanted to keep track of you, oh your little intrepid group intrigues me. I had not expected, however, you'd find what we were after and be rid of that troublesome little Observer. Maybe I underestimated your pet tiefling” she taunted, and that line seemed to get a rise from Arthur.

To Hazel, the whole room felt heavy. His chest felt like it'd collapse, his mind instantly flashed back to their last fight in the large chamber. His large ears twitched when he heard the snapping of Arthur's peace ties, and to him just then it sounded like thunder. The way he heard the blade click free of the sheath, ready to draw, sounded like the opening of massive cathedral doors. Everything in him screamed that he needed to stop this now, or people were going to die.

“Wait!” he shouted, grasping Arthur by his weapon arm.

Hazel's word caught everyone a little off guard, and he stepped between the party and the three drow. “Listen” he started. “You out number us, and I think we know as well as you do that if we fought you would likely take the day” that line got a curious look from Servetere, who immediately questioned what kind of negotiation this was. “But, you've seen us fight. Arthur has once before defeated you. We are capable, and this time we are well prepared for your assault. You may win, but you would take losses.”

“You've got what you want, the brazier here. By all bets, you could take this now and leave with a complete success to your operation and no additional losses. Or, you could engage us in a fruitless fight and lose lives in the process.” he would state and, judging by the expression on the woman's face, she seemed to be receptive. “Are you proposing” she began, running a tongue along her lower lip “Terms of your surrender?”

There was an uncomfortable air in the room, but the bard continued. “You get the brazier, we get our lives, and you don't lose any people. Are we agreed?” A long, deafening silence followed Hazel's words. Hagun couldn't help but stare, in the entirety of that silence and what could be his final moments, at the rag wearing drow in the back. The whole thing felt wrong, the deepest kind of wrong, and all of a sudden the brand on his chest hurt.

“Agreed” the word finally came from the lead drow. She would step aside, and motion out. “Leave”

One by one, and carefully, the group would begin moving passed the trio of drow. It was tense, and with every member of the party that passed Hazel winced as if he was afraid she would grab them. He looked around after Rhogar, Brynolfr, and Hagun had passed.  
He hadn't seen Servetere, or Servy, pass but she wasn't in the room so he figured it was just him and Arthur left. Before he could say anything, Arthur would shove him forward a bit, encouraging the satyr forward. Of course the knight would want to be the last one out, that only made sense. Hazel would all but close his eyes as he walked within arms length of the drow woman, remembering how she decimated Rhogar and Brynolfr before, and simply trying not to think about it.

He gave a deep exhale as he stepped passed, and turned to see Arthur not far behind. “Ah ah” the woman said, motioning towards him with her blade. “Both of your hands stay up knight. I saw how fast you are” she would command, and the knight would comply. Walking slowly past the door while Hazel continued to stare. “Wait” she said, and Hazel nearly had a heart attack right there, even as cool as Arthur remained.

“Your name” she said “I would have the name of a human that can match blades with a drow” she stated. “Arthur Noblesse” he answered, and she quickly retorted “Ahlysaaria” she would respond and bade him take his leave past her. He did, and took a deep breath much like Hazel had before as he rejoined the party. “Where's Servy?”

As if on cue, the Ahlysaaria turned about. Her arm dropped and she knocked away Servetere's blade that had lunged for her ribs from behind, in the same motion lifting the edge of her weapon to the tiefling's throat. “Oh dear” she said, looking in to the wide eyes of the now panicked tiefling. “What was your plan dear?” she taunted. Surely, the tiefling thought herself smooth but Ahlysaaria was smoother. She hadn't even seen the tiefling sneak out the southern door after her guards left it open, at first, but the rag wearing drow had shoved her shoulder before and instantly she realized.

She'd have to punish her guards later she thought, holding her blade to Servetere's throat. Arthur stepped forward, again seeming ready to go for his sword and once again Hazel stopped him and whispered “You know we can't take them.” and with that he cursed under his breath and straightened up.

“I...deeply apologize” Arthur started “She was out of line but if you'll let us take h-” the drow shook her head “Oh no need to worry my dear, we will uphold our part of the bargain” she would start, but before Arthur could even sigh another breath of relief she continued “But the tiefling stays with us.”

Arthur went wide eyed at that, and turned back to the rest of the party. Their hands neared their weapons, and they seemed ready to attack, but as he turned back to Hazel he noticed a note of fear in the satyr's eyes. His breathing was deep, as if he was trying to calm himself, and when he looked back to the party he saw the same thing in all of them. “Please, lets just go” Hazel whispered, softly. 

“She did break the bargain” Hagun added, in an almost cold tone. There was a long pause, before Arthur turned back to Servetere, watching her for a moment before mouthing softly 'I'll come back' and, at that, she seemed to relax some. As if that reassurance was enough before the knight would nod at the trio of drow. “Alright, we're leaving.” he said, and took a half step back. Hesitating a long moment before finally turning around and beginning to make his way back towards the entrance.

The walk back towards the safe camp was long and quiet. Nobody was comfortable, and every now and then one of them would shift or fidget. It'd be small, and nearly soundless, but it was deafening to Arthur and Hazel. When Hagun put his hand on Arthur's shoulder the knight took a deep breath. He started “This was her mistake, if we had attacked we'd be betraying our end of the d-” “I know” Arthur interrupted and forced one of his warm, friendly smiles.  
Quinton sat at the camp at the mouth of the cave, it had been probably a day and a half since he had seen the party in and he was growing nervous. Two days, is what he told them he'd wait, and it was nearing that already. “Stupid adventurers” he told himself, even if he had sort of warmed up to the satyr fellow. “Why would I ever volunteer for this duty” he asked himself again.

Yet, when he heard the sound of cracking branch and footsteps he was immediately out of the tent as if anticipating the arrival of long lost family. He caught himself smiling as he saw them begin to emerge, but quickly bit it back to his usual expression. Something he was glad for, as he saw the dour expression of the group. Hazel emerged first, looking like he might fall over, only for the red haired knight Arthur to step in behind him and straighten him up by the shoulder. He pat him between the shoulder blades and gave the most fake smile Quinton had ever seen before stepping ahead.

As the rest of the party emerged none of them looked the better. No doubt, bad news was coming, this was not the celebration of a job well done. Had they failed to push the orcs back, was the problem worse than anticipated? Maybe they'd need to rally the guard, he thought. 

One, two, three, four, five...Oh, he realized, as Servetere never appeared.


	5. To Need an Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm not sure why I'm doing this. This plan to parlay, to try to turn the tide on an impossible situation. When it was just a job it was simple, the situation escalated to the point where the pay didn't justify the means. I should leave this group to their fate that's gone well over their heads. Yet, I’ll be damned if I let another town suffer the fate of oppression, if I let the drow take another step. Here I am proposing a plan that even I know is absurd. We left someone back there and I intend to get her back.” - Hagun's Strategic Notes

The first hour back on the road was dour, Quinton thought. He could hardly believe it was the same crew he had brought to the wave echo cave in the first place. Yet, as hours passed on the road he couldn't help but notice how persistently the knight reminded the others that they'd be back, his talks of camaraderie and a triumphant return. “We'll be back, and better prepared. We aren't to leave her there, I promise” he echoed probably a dozen times that trip, and finally nearing it's final bend he got a little smile out of Hazel across from him as he reached out, clasped him on the shoulder, and gave him a little shake.

“But should we?” a voice finally broached the gradually improving mood, and Hagun turned to look towards them from his position seated towards the back of the wagon. “This is hardly a mere adventurer problem now. If the drow have taken to holding the mines in force, then this is surely now a military effort.” the more he spoke, the more Arthur's gaze turned away. Contemplating the man's words, unsure how to respond. “We must return” the words finally cut out, but not from the knight. Brynolfr stood defiant in the cart, balanced on it's edge and overlooking the team.

“We left her behind” he stated, solidly. “We must return not just to drive out the drow, but to bring back our comrade. It is our duty, and Torm would never look upon us again if we abandoned such a duty.” and for the moment, every one on the wagon was quiet. A hint of the darkening sky descending on the group as the sun crowned in the horizon, and only the sound of crunching dirt and rock under the wagon. The long silence once more cut away with “Alright” from Rhogar. “What's the plan then? No doubt, when we return the Drow will expect us. It wont just be a handful, we'll be against an army.”

Another silence as a few of them crossed their arms, exchanging some glances. Hagun eventually gave a long, deep sigh. The kind that was louder than any words could be, and worked well to keep the group from falling in to another long silence “Well, to fight an army I suppose we'll need an army.” 

A pause before the wagon hit another large rock in the road and the bump tilted it awkwardly, sending the dwarven monk stumbling from his post to tumble across the dirt. Just like that the wagon became alight with better moods; laughter and conversation and chatter. Quinton had begun to drown it out by this point, but he couldn't help but smile at the complex plan and how quickly the mood shifted.

The wagon rolled back in to town as night descended; the town was quiet and even the stable master seemed half awake as he took the horses. Regardless of future planning, the group needed to rest and the plan quickly became to retire once more in to the inns. Quinton parted ways with the party here, presumably to make his report to the Townmaster, and the rest of the group made their way down the dirt road hill towards the inn they had stayed at the day prior to leaving for the caves.

Yet, hardly a moment was spent in rest. Certainly, at first everyone did retire to their rooms and try to sleep, but one by one over the course of the evening they inevitably found themselves wandering back downstairs in to the tavern, huddling around the barely candle lit table.  
“If we're all here, I suppose, we should go over the plan once more.” Arthur would finally speak, nodding to Hagun to open. After all, everything they discussed on the wagon ride in came from him. The regional map was rolled out across the table, and a still burning candle placed atop it as Arthur took the hint to remove his ink quill. As Hagun motioned to the spot on the map, Arthur was already leaning forward to mark it out.

“This is where the goblin we met on our way in told us they were hiding out.” Hagun explained as Arthur leaned over the map in such a way that he was half illuminated by the nearby candles, a dim light that was hardly enough to light the room for the party. He drew a circle where they had encountered the goblins on the road, and then several dotted lines to represent the path to where he believe the goblins would be located off the trail. 

“We know that the goblins are only involved in this because the local orc camps, controlled by the drow, are forcing them in to it.” At the base of the map, Arthur doodled a few images to represent the factions currently in play. The Drow, The Orcs, and the Goblins; and the simple top down relationship they had. “The orcs have an agreement with the bugbear that runs the goblin tribe, so they're forced to work for them. If we remove the bugbear, and implement an alternative for the goblins, cowardly as they are, they wont continue to support the orcs. Furthermore-” as if wanting to steal the thunder, Hazel quickly cut in “We can convince them to turn against the orcs, and help us retake Wave Echo Cave and the mines.”

Arthur nodded quickly at the outburst, even though it drew a sort of frustrated face from their orcish friend to be so rudely interrupted. “That's the plan” Hagun said flatly as Arthur fell back in to his seat. “Alright, i'm following so far” Rhogar started, though his tone betrayed the question hanging on his tongue “But how do you plan to...implement an alternative leader” he asked, to which Hagun answered simply and in one word: “Violence”

There was a long silence before he elaborated. “Goblinoid society isn't so unlike the 'civilized' races in politics. Someone always wants power. The difference is, they don't hold elections. They hold fights. We find out who wants to be in charge, and does not support the drow, and we put them in charge.” that seemed to bring a look of recognition to everyone at the table, though a hesitant one. Members of the party looking from one another, with the exception of Brynolf who nodded to himself as if he understand completely “Torm always says, if politics get to complicated it's best to resort to drinking and noble violence” something that, of course, the goodly God did not ever say.

A plan was set, but even still the conversation carried well in to the night until the candle was barely a stub and much of the wax had melted on to the map below. One after another, each member of the party eventually found their way and want for rest. Brynolfr fell unconscious across the seating of the table.

The rest inevitably began to disappear in to their rooms upstairs one by one, and one by one the flickering of candle and lantern light in each room would fade. All except for one, the faint light under the door of the room the red haired knight had taken as his own. Seated at a desk pressed against the window of the inn so that he could look out over the city in deep night, his glances trading between the pile of books and papers at his table and the other candle lights scattered about a few buildings. He wandered if they, too, stayed late in to the hour with their troubled thoughts.

 

So troubled were his thoughts, it seemed, that he entirely missed Hazel sneak in to the room until he felt a hand on his shoulder that shocked him out of his thoughts. Perhaps it'd be a welcome respite, if not for the question that came next, pointing at the scattered books; “What are those?”

Arthur blushed at that, the realization that he had left them scattered upon the desk; “They're books” he answered, a bit of a deflection by stating the obvious, as Hazel leaned over his shoulder pressing nearly cheek to cheek. His hand fell upon one of the books, gently turning the page to reveal the wording and the image upon the next. “You read Chapbooks?” and with that question from the satyr, there was no real denying it. Dozens of the cheap little paper books, stories of heroes and outlandish adventures. Not exactly the high brow entertainment nobility were typically caught with, but there they were.

The closeness was partially responsible for Arthur's delay of an answer; Hazel had invaded his personal space before but usually in playful and intentional flirtations. This was different, the genuineness of the question made the whole moment strangely more sincere. By the time Arthur was ready to answer, Hazel had already began speaking again. “I suppose it makes sense, I bet you grew up with these. Then you inherit your fortune, and whisked up in these stories of heroic teams you decide to put one together yourself hmmm? The knight who fights the dragon, maybe saves a princess...or a prince” curiosity turned back to teasing, and in a way it helped relieve the tense moment.

The knight gave a playful laugh and gently pushed Hazel to the side so his weight wasn't so on Arthur's back. “Alright, you caught me. So I have a few childish intrigues.” he started, as Hazel reacted to being nudged off by simply turned about and plopping his rear on the corner of the desk barely leaving the knight's personal space. “I like it” Hazel added abruptly, which brought a smile to Arthur's lips. “That you have such a silly, childish interest” he added in a way that quickly erased it. “It makes you more human I think, to like something like this. This whole time you've been like a figurine, pretty to look at and noble in all the right ways, but this makes you a bit more....you” he would explain.

And there was another pause, Arthur didn't know how to react to the strange compliment. That's what it was, he decided, a compliment, so he let that smile return to his face. “Yeah it's, well it's been a hobby for a long time. Each town I go to, I buy all the local stories I can find and-” he was cut off suddenly as he noticed Hazel reach across the table. Arthur's hand shot out to try to stop him, but it was too late clearly. The satyr had already noticed it, the pen dipped in ink and the open papers. “Are you...are you writing your own chap book. Is this us?”

Arthur would gently rub at the back of his neck, a sure sign of his nerves. “Yeah it's...I mean, it's no different than what you're doing right? Making songs out of it? I just-” “It's very different” Hazel cut him off with a laugh, like the comparison was ridiculous “But it's cute, a little story of our story.” he would explain, and that laughter made the knight's smile grow even if it was in mocking of him. It faded again though as he sighed “Yeah, I thought...maybe if I wrote some it'd help me forget out situation. I don't exactly know how to write what happened. That we left her behind, I mean” he said, a sort of tempered sorrow in his voice. “You should wait then” Hazel would interject “Finish writing it after we save her.”

The next morning was an early one with the party meeting up at the base of the hill and road that lead to the large deserted, halfway destroyed manor that overlooked the city. It seemed like an odd place to meet, but the knight had been quite insistent on it. The large building, at closer inspection, was long dilapidated. Many of it's walls and all of it's roof collapsed in, nearly unsalvageable except for a few of the rooms that remained in tact and a cellar below. A strong foundation, but extensive work would need to be done to ever rebuild it.  
It was Hazel who showed up first, which was a little unusual given his penchant to take as long as he did each morn, and the rest of the group filtered in just after. They stood at the ready, silent but firm, as the red haired knight turned to face them. “The scope of our quest has changed considerably, the factions involved have become more dangerous and the task more daunting.” though before he could continue the speak, Hazel cut in with a wink “It's a little like an overtold epic” he would state, earning a few curious looks. 

“The plot has become rapidly more complex and dangerous, the clinching moment of the story that draws the listener in” Hazel continued, seemingly hijacking Arthur's speech but the red headed knight hardly seemed to mind. “Yet, I don't think anyone here is still here for the glory, or the pay. We're going back in there to get someone back, and it's going to make one hell of a song for our story” he would state, to which Arthur nodded with a warm smile “So to that end, we will tackle this from a new direction. I'm going to be putting more coin in to this endeavor, enough for each of you to buy a healing potion and upgrade your equipment” he would state, as he removed a small handful of gold coins.

Yet, Hazel's eyes narrowed. Despite being a noble, Arthur seemed to quite carefully count out his funds. For a man that should be wealthy, it was obvious that his pockets weren't endless. He didn't interrupt, however. “I will be approaching the Townmaster with a new deal as well” he would explain, as he stepped forward to begin giving coin. “A small payout of gold is no longer enough for our services, we fight a truer foe than I am sure this town has ever faced. I would not bleed them of their gold however, rather” he would turn his head up the hill, looking at the collapsed manor “We shall barter, and in payment for solving the problem of their drow they shall give to us a guild hall”

A few of them winced as they caught on, looking at the destroyed building, yet Hazel straightened up more. Something almost seemed to sparkle in his eyes, and the more he thought about it the more this reminded him of the day they met the knight and his little wagon. More so, he noticed that nobody sought to remind him that they were a party, and not a guild, as if every single one of them had accidentally fallen in to the knights dreams. “Alright, break”

As they turned to step away, the party naturally split up in to a few groups with ideas of what they would need. Although, it was hard not to notice how the split seemed to follow a familiar pattern to their last visit as Rhogar stepped off to the side with Hazel whilst Brynolf and Hagun went their separate ways in to the little town. Though before he could even consider stepping away, Arthur felt a draw to the manor; so he turned on his heel and began the long walk uphill.

Across town Hazel pushed open the door to the Lionshield Coster, the weapons and armor supplier on the west side of Phandalin. The room was lined on one side with weapon racks, and on the other with a dozen displays of armor and steel plates. “About the last time we spoke here...” Rhogar spoke up from behind “I'm sorry if I seemed judgmental. I just...” he couldn't even finish the sentence before Hazel sort of waved him off over his shoulder and turned towards several manikins along the wall with studded leather armor. He walked the isle of armors and protective gear, his eyes not leaving them for a moment. He looked very much to the dragonborn like someone with a lot on their mind, somebody trying to change.

Rhogar couldn't help but stare as Hazel called over the shop keeper, because the armor he chose was hardly impressively designed. It was no where near as intricate or as stand out as the attire he had worn since the day they met, even in to battle. For once, it seemed, the bard made a practical decision. The discussion with the store keep seemed to be about how long it'd take to resize and recut the outfit for a satyr, but Rhogar was hardly listening.   
Instead, he turned a bit on his heel and stepped out from the shop; if even Hazel was so serious about doing this right perhaps it was time he took to the shops as well. He took a long deep breath through his snout like nose and closed his eyes to let a few long moments pass before he'd begin to make his way down the road; he'd need lumber to make his new arrows with. He paused however for only a moment, reaching down to pat at the coin pouch on his belt. It had been opened slightly, and with a quick count it was hard to miss that most of the coin Arthur had given him for supplies was missing.

He could have been mad at Hazel, he thought, for so brazenly pickpocketing him but he simply let it go. Heading towards the norther portion of town, he passed the temple of Tymora that Hazel had visited before and, down the road from that, the temple to Tiamat. Anger boiled inside of him for a moment, before he huffed again and tried to continue down the road beyond them both. That was, until his eyes caught a glimmer from their corner, the honed trained of a ranger that knew well the signs of reflective glass. He turned about, and began to rapidly approach the shop roof it originated.

For only a moment, he noticed someone leap from the building to another nearby, only catching the blue attire and inlaid gold that with with it. There was something familiar about those colors, and yet more importantly he now knew that he wasn't the only one who's eyes were laid upon the false temple. He momentarily entertained the idea of pursuing the figure, but it was already too late for that. Like a deer that had been spotted, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to follow the figure that had escaped.

Hagun and Brynolfr were far from them in the north eastern part of Phandalin at a little shop run by a man named Barthan's which focused on provisions. They'd pick up the potions that Arthur told them to, but it was no small feat. Such a small town wasn't generally used to outfitting adventurers and, infact, this was the third shop they had been to trying to secure at least one vial of healing for each of the party, four if one including the temple of Tymora where often healing could be obtained. The coin ran a little tighter than expected as well, as scarcity put the half orc in a tighter negotiating position than he was in already as, well, a half orc.

“This is silly” Hagun said, finally breaking the silence. Or, the one sided silence as it was. Brynolfr has never stopped speaking, constantly wavering back and forth between misquoting the scripture of the Tormish and discussing rare alcohols and brews, two topics of conversation so unrelated that Hagun had given up trying to follow the logic behind it. Yet, despite that he had made up his mind that Brynolfr was somehow damaged, the next words took him a little off guard. “But yer still here too, aren't ye?” A long pause at that, before he had to admit; “I suppose I am. Though, I doubt for all the same reasons”

That drew a curious glance from Brynolfr, who wasted no time giving his guesses. “Duty?” was his first, to which Hagun gave a sort of shrug that hinted he was close. “Regret?” was his second, which drew a subtler but more telling frown from the half orc. “Revenge?” a third guess and at this point Hagun finally just gave a long deep sigh and answered “Because I will not stand by and watch the drow work their machinations on another innocent people. If they take that cave, I have very little doubt this town will be next. Maybe not overtly, maybe not quickly, but they will get their fingers in the people here and turn them in to their puppets.” he gave a long pause, turning to look down at the monk “Doubt this not, servant of Torm. For I have seen it.”

 

“Ah, but Torm says never to leave a compatriot behind. Do you have no consideration for our fair but rougish friend?” he would ask, and Hagun would frown again, deeper this time. “Of course I do, i'll not leave her to the drow. All the more, given that I know what they could do. What of you though, Tormish, do you make this march only because your God would demand it? Because you'd be thrown to the hells for abandoning your job?” Hagun shot back in an almost accusing question, to which the monk stood taller. “Nay, well aye but also nay. We should have never left her behind in the first.”

Arthur made the long trek up the hill and in to the manor, the song that echoed in his mind grew strong as he came near. He turned near the destroyed entrance to the manor and within he found nothing. He walked the length of the building a few times, careful not to risk harm in the long abandoned and likely dangerous building. Stepping around the fallen wood and nails and avoiding the shattering of the windows he took a mental note of the layout before sighing and turning on his heels. He needed to head to the mayor's office, and could follow his fits of fancy later.

Making his way back to the center of town towards the townmaster's hall he took a long, deep breath to find his center. The truth was, Arthur actually wasn't quite good at this. Most Waterdaven nobles played the games of cups and mask with finesse and expertise, handling negotiations with some run down Townmaster would be nothing. Yet for Arthur, each one of these meetings was a challenge despite the confidence he exuded each time.

Still, he found his composure as he always did pushing open the door to the town hall with no invite or expectation. A young man in the first room, some sort of secretary perhaps, rose as if he planned to stop Arthur but with a single confident movement of his hand Arthur wordlessly bade the man return to his seat, and did so without question as the knight moved beyond him and in to the room beyond.

The town master, Harbin, was quick to come to his feet with an indignant expression as the red haired knight entered. “You've some nerve, returning here from your failed quest. Quinton gave me his full report and I-...” once more, Arthur raised his hand and the mayor, much like the secretary outside, submitted to the simple motion; but with none less of the indignation.

“Listen, your problem is far worse than you thought it was. If the drow have truly decided to take the mines, there is little that can be done to stop them short of military action. However, we are still willing to find a way to put an end to this before it grows further out of control. We have a plan to return to the mines in force, if you would support a second attempt” he explained, to which the town master gave him a long hard stare before setting back down.

“If you want to go back down there and die” the rotund man began “I don't see any reason to stop you. That's not why you're here though is it, good Ser Knight. You wish to renegotiate the payment” he continued, and Arthur resisted the urge to wince. He supposed it was a little transparent, but none the less he stood straight backed and spoke with an immediate answer.

“Yes, no longer is a pittance of gold coin an acceptable payment. Even we have already put in significant coin, and you're payment would barely cover our losses.” a reality that made the town master's eyes wonder away for half of a moment, just barely enough to notice but long enough for Arthur to know he had him. “I don't really want an increase in coin profit. The same deal as before, but you'll cover our financial investment if we succeed.”

 

“Consider it done-” the town master started to respond, before he noticed the way the knight shook his head “And you'll give us the abandoned manor” he stated, flatly and so bluntly it clearly cause Harbin off balance. “You're not using it, and I am not requiring you rebuild it for us of course. It would be our responsibility, to use as we see fit.” he explained, never wavering the way his eyes locked on the town master. One final silence fell over the room before the simple response; “Fine.”

Evening fell over the town as everyone attended to their separate tasks and goals, but even still Arthur couldn't shake the feeling he got from the manor. Was this unnatural feeling the reason he negotiated for it in the first place? If anything, as the moon slid in to the night sky, that song in the back of his head grew a little more intense. For the second time that evening, he made his way towards the hill at the back of the town, following the road up to the manor.

Stepping once more in to the destroyed building, he turned the corner once again in to what used to be the grand hall of the manor. This time, however, it was not as empty as it was before. Sat on her knees, with hands clasped together, was a young woman who's midnight blue hair spilled out across the floor around her. Under her long tresses, he only just noticed the ears so similar to Quinton's from before that gave her away as a half elf. She seemed locked in prayer, and after a moment the knight began to realize her prayer was the song he heard. It felt a lot like Hazel's music, like the tune of it somehow reverberated through the weave.

“Ah, can I help you. M'lady...?” he spoke, leaving room for her to answer with her name. The music ceased, and she pushed herself to her feet. “Lunari” she answered, turning to face the knight. Arthur couldn't help but notice how familiar the dress was, he knew very little of fashion but he did know an outfit meant to be laid under armor when he saw it. “Good Ser?” she spoke, drawing his attention again and causing him to realize how it must have seemed with his eyes looking over her attire.

“My apologies, Miss Lunari” he would state as his eyes rose to meet her own as we spoke; “I am Arthur Noblesse, a knight from-” “I know who you are” she spoke, cutting him short. “Selune told me I'd find you here” stated, and that brought a curious glance from the knight. Selune, he knew, was the goodly goddess of the moon, a goddess of stars and guidance as well as motherhood and reproduction. Perhaps that explained why so many of her female priestesses, much like this woman, were so beautiful and voluptuous, not that he had noticed.

“And what would the Moonmaiden want with me?” he asked, too curious to turn her away from the get go. “I was to find The Sun and give him a gift” she stated, and the other worldly way she said it made him feel a little off. She removed a small scroll from her side and began to walk forward. “Please, Ser Pal-” she started, and his breath rose as he quickly cut her off “What would that gift be?”

She gave a confused look, before shaking her head and extending the scroll outward. A scroll he took with only some small hesitation before unraveling it. “Th-..this is a scroll of revivify” he stated, caught a little off guard by such an expensive gift by a complete stranger. He stared at the scroll for a long moment before looking back up to her, and seeing that she was simply...gone.

“Fancy meeting you here” a voice from behind pulled Arthur from his thoughts and the knight turned on his heel to see Hazel there, standing in all his usual splendor. No, not the usual, infact he was dressed quite differently. Studded leather armor, custom fit to his form and ending as a sort of tasset above his legs. Sure, there was some decorative flair to the set with the red scarf that accompanied it, and the nice leather strap that held his rarely used sword to it, but it definitely didn't seem like the same man.  
“I could say the same to you.” he answered, before smiling “You look handsome” he stated in a way that was so honest and blunt that it nearly made the satyr blush, if not for how serious he attempted to look. Pushing out his chest and trying to meet the knight's posture with his own “Well, you said it right? This is no longer some play adventure, it's the real deal. I just figured this was more appropriate” he would state. “It suits you, though did you come up here to find me? I did not think I was so terribly tardy.”

A question that brought a shake to the Satyr's head “No, I felt magics here. Like when I play the weave, stroking it like a harp. I thought mayhap another bard, and could feel the music, but instead I find only you” he explained, pausing for a moment before adding “Not that I’m disappointed.” Arthur sighed, looked at the scroll in his hand, and tucked it in to his belt “You have a good intuition, though I haven't quite parsed it out myself yet. Come, let us gather our fellows and return to the inn.”


End file.
